


Boys of Summer

by rose_coloured



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, Flowers, Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Mutual Pining, Social Justice, Students, They somehow ended up in Hogwarts, so much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-11-29 02:31:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11431323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_coloured/pseuds/rose_coloured
Summary: The summer after their sixth year at Hogwarts had promised to be the worst time in Enjolras life. With his parents planning to disown him, there was really nothing to look forward to. But the "Les Amis" wouldn't let their beloved leader go through this horror without their help. And so he ended up in a small village, with muggles, his friends and - most disturbingly - Grantaire. In the meantime, two best friends finally managed to figure themselves out and Jean disappeared a lot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story in this fandom, as well as the first one written in English. I really hope you like it.  
> A special thanks goes out to E. for listening to all my weird headcanons and rants about the wizarding society as well as for proofreading! 
> 
> This chapter was mostly for exposition, but the story will progress more in the next chapters.
> 
> Love,  
> K.

##### Enjolras

It has been bound to end in an epic disaster, Enjolras had known this from the moment Courfeyrac had mentioned his so-called "masterplan to finally sort out this bullshit, that is your family" - catchy name. Now it wasn't like all ideas, Courfeyrac had, would fail per se, but at least 90% of them did. And when they failed it was just as epic as the idea itself, what usually meant a lot of detention and more often than not an almost alarming number of broken bones. So for the first time in his life, Enjolras had hoped to be proven wrong by fate.

It was in the final days of his sixth year at Hogwarts and they had held the last meeting of their student club. The "Les Amis", the name had been Cosettes idea, had been founded in their third year, after Enjolras had finally gathered enough people, who wanted to join him in... whatever he was planning. Honestly, that hadn't been figured out until last year.  
With the help of all of them, they had settled on the equality of muggle-borns, especially underage students, in the wizarding society, as their topic. There were children without any legal guard, who was familiar with the wizarding world, thrown into this strange society. Hogwarts only gave minimal help and many students, as well as the faculty, were not keen on helping. Racism was still common on the school ground. And that's what "Les Amis" wanted to change. They wanted to help the students in need and at the same time educate the others. Their goal was to achieve a safe environment for kids of all social backgrounds at their school. The real world would be harsh enough.  
The lot of them had now gathered in the abandoned classroom, that had become a second common room for most of the members. It was located near the Slytherin common room down in the dungeons, which made it almost impossible to be heated in the winter. This had been the very reason why the room wasn't used for classes anymore, supposedly a first year had lost a finger after it had frozen. At least that's what the rumors were saying. It usually took many blankets and all of Combeferre's best heating spells to be comfortable in the winter, but the meetings often got so heated, that nobody really noticed the cold anymore after some time.  
When they had first come here everything had been covered in dust and spiderwebs, but over time it had gotten much cozier. In the front was a huge blackboard, usually showing this week and the next week's schedule and main topics of discussion. Along the walls stood mismatched chairs, tables, and even sofas, collected over time, where all of them were lounging right now.  
Jehan had once tried to grow some flowers, but without the sunlight, it was rather hard to grow anything, so now a fine choice of fake flowers decorated some tables. On the walls hung all four house banners. First Enjolras had scoffed at the display of house-pride, Courfeyrac had convinced him, that it was more a display of shared identity among them. Next to the banners were hundreds of photos, taken at all occasions. Birthdays they celebrated together, summer trips and the many demos they had attended. Most important though were the initiatives they had held at Hogwarts. They had been allowed to talk in front of their schoolmates about some topics. Not all of those initiatives had been successful, but they had tried again and again and never given up.  
The most impressive thing in the room was certainly the ceiling. Miming the one in the great hall the first idea had been to let it display the sky. But as Musichetta, Joly and Bosuett had taken the matter into their hands, it had gotten even better. Musichetta had called it her "goodbye present" when she left the school a few years ago.  
She hadn't really been part of the group but she had been Courfeyrac's tutor in potions and he had told her what they had planned. His optimism had been so endearing that she decided to at least make their room prettier. In her opinion, the daylight would only undermine the atmosphere and so she decided to put the whole night sky onto the ceiling. It had taken her the help of Joly and Bahorel as well as Professor Myriel to cast the difficult spell. The members had loved it and often spent a lot of time pointing out constellations to each other. Enjolras looked around in this room that had felt more like home than his house since the first time all of them had stepped foot into it.

Growing up in a strict, traditional and posh upper-class pure-blood household Enjolras had never met any muggles before he had left for Hogwarts six years prior. Nonetheless he the kid had been smart and so he had known from a very early age that the way his parents had treated and talked about people and creatures, who were no pure-blood wizards, was more than wrong.  
At an early age, his parents had taken quite the pride in the fact that he had looked a lot like his father: a rather lean figure, a sharp face and short gold-blond hair. Combined with his dark blue eyes some of his relatives had taken a liking to calling him "little angle". The similarities had only gotten more and more striking as he grew older and in his attempts to rebel his family their golden boy decided to ditch the military-cut of his early years and let it grow out. When he had come home after the second year with "disturbingly long hair" his father had tried to cut it off, which resulted in Enjolras screaming bloody murder.  
Since that fateful day, nobody except for Cosette had been allowed to cut off his hair, which had resulted in his now shoulder-long curls. Of course, he had been sorted into Slytherin, but the elitist way they behaved had never fit him. He had been shocked, how easily those children had accustomed their parent's racism, without knowing it better.  
But Enjolras had been more than happy when - after two weeks of trying to be friends with anybody and failing spectacularly at that - he had met a quirky and happy-go-lucky Hufflepuff first year called Courfeyrac in his Herbology class. Ignoring the mean slurs his housemates stage-whispered in their direction whenever the two boys were seen together he started to spend more and more time with the curly headed muggle-born, who had been more than happy to introduce him to the non-magic technologies muggles used.  
With Courfeyrac came Combeferre, a rather studious muggle-born Ravenclaw, who had been his friend for five years and seemed to be a calm anchor for whoever was in his orbit. He was witty and more than ready to at least support Courfeyrac's often insane ideas and he never once failed to accompany his friend in detention. The both of them actually came from the same town and had grown up together. When Combeferre had gotten his letter he had been horrified at first. A life at a school so far away, without his best friend had seemed like a terrible future. Both of them had been crying for hours when Courfeyrac had also gotten a letter. Both of them knew how much luck this had been and while Courfeyrac often jokingly called it fate Combeferre was just glad that he had never had to leave this boy behind.  
The three of them had been inseparable from their early days in this tightly-knit friendship and when Enjolras had had the idea to found an after school club, the two of them had been on board.  
Hogwarts did not really have a history of after-school activities or even students associations, so when they had voiced their idea for the first time, at the beginning of the third year, their teachers had laughed in their faces and told them to focus on studying.  
It had taken a year and a few good words from the headmasters adopted daughter, Cosette, to let their idea finally pass. Cosette had actually been raised in France and was one year younger than the three boys. After her mother had passed away Valjean had taken it upon himself to look after the girl and so she had come to Hogwarts. Since that she had been one of the few friendly faces in Slytherin and Enjolras had somehow come to like the girl.  
Being allowed to gather the students in an attempt to make the world a little bit better, as their "Defence against the dark arts"-teacher Javert had called it mockingly, the boys had soon found themselves surrounded by like-minded people of all houses. And from that day on, the "Les Amis" had made it their agenda to discuss and educate their schoolmates about social injustice and discrimination in the wizarding world.  
Now almost three years later they had grown and had even gotten real recognition outside the school grounds.  
All of them had been there from the start and over the years they had developed a deep friendship among themselves.  
Courfeyrac had brought Marius to their first meeting. A wide-eyed, shy and awkward lanky boy, whom he had met one night when Marius accidentally stumbled in his dorm room instead of his own. The one year younger wizard had caught Courfeyrac's interest and he had happily accepted the invitation to join their club. His parents had left Marius in his grandfather's care from an early age. This man held the old beliefs, which Marius had adapted and only slowly lost over the past years. He had been absolutely enraged when his pure-blood grandson had been sorted into Hufflepuff and not Slytherin.  
Joining the "Les Amis" had not changed the tense relationship for the better, but after Courfeyracs declaration that he would be Marius' Grandfather now, as well as his "father, mother and even your weird aunt" he had learned that his friends would be a better family than he could have ever hoped for.  
Somewhere along the way, the two Hufflepuffs had gathered another housemate of them to join the group. Jean Prouvaire had been the boy, who had shown Marius the way to all of their classrooms on their first day and between all the awkwardness they had become friends. The strawberry-blond half-blood wizard had a talent for poetry and languages, which was the reason why he was on top of the class in Ancient Runes putting, even the most studious Ravenclaw to shame. Even Combeferre had at one point sought the younger boys help.  
Growing up in a rural muggle neighbourhood he had also taken a special interest in the sometimes beautiful and more often dangerous plants on their Herbology syllabus. He had been shocked to find out nobody in the wizarding world really cared about the symbolic flower language and so he had made it his task to make them out. His habit to wax poetics was only aggravated whenever he was in love. It was not a feeling he felt often, he rather kept it treasured for certain people, but when cupids bow struck him he was head over heels and completely gone.  
Combeferre had also managed to bring some new people along. Joly, a slightly hypochondriac fella, who had just graduated this year. The black-haired Ravenclaw had more than once been a helpful addition to the group, always carrying around band-aids and being friends with the school nurse since his first year. Nobody had thought this would be such a benefit, but he had more than once been able to convince her to not report things to the headmaster. He might sometimes lack the bedside manners, but that was mostly due to his utter concern about his friends. The other boys and girls had been glad when they had heard that he would stay one more year at Hogwarts in order to intern at the infirmary.  
Wherever Joly was, Bossuet was not far away. The 19-year-old graduate and one year older Musichetta lived in Hogsmeade, grateful to be close to their boyfriend for his last year of school. Their co-owned Café Musain was the most frequented place whenever the Hogwarts students were allowed outside the school's walls.  
Musichetta always had an open ear for any kind of trouble, the kids might be having, and Bossuet cared most about his fellow muggle-borns, who might miss home. They had one extra room full of muggle-things to give the kids a feeling of home amidst all this unbelievable magic. Although most technological devices did not work, due to all the magic surrounding them comic books and games were a more than welcome distraction from the everyday Hogwarts life. Even some pure-blood kids had been caught with old comic books in their hands, looking unnecessarily guilty. More than once he had told them, that the only way to learn about muggles and being able to really understand them would be by looking at their culture.  
"Les Amis" also frequented the café, visiting their friends and keeping them up-to-date with all of their ideas.  
Another founding member had already left school. Feuilly had been in Musichettas year and had also decided to work close to his friends The wizard, whose muggle-father was from polish descent had a hand for wand-making and was undergoing a training with one of the most famous craftsmen. For the first three years, he had been stationed in Hogsmeade and had mostly been occupied with repairing somehow broken wands from nervous first-years and Bossuet. Most of the time Bossuet, like every other week. It had broken his heart to see the delicate wand being broken again and again, twice even beyond repair. His latest wand had set a record with not being broken. But that hadn't been surprising. An elm wand was known to produces least failures and that seemed just the right choice for somebody as chaotic as Bossuet.  
Bossuet was most of the time referred to as the groups "unlucky lucky charm". From his childhood on he somehow attracted the worst luck. His muggle mother had believed, that he had somehow been cursed. He had managed to break way too many utensils in his potion-making class and his astrology teacher had thrown him out of her class for being a bad omen. He had tried playing Quidditch but in his first training he had broken Musichettas nose and the wrath of Joly had made him step down from this. But the three of them still remembered this as the very romantic story of how they all had met. With the years he had come to terms with his bad luck and usually just countered with saying that at least he wasn't as awkward as Marius and that at least wizards didn't have expensive technology he could break. The latter statement has usually earned him a confused look by Enjolras.  
Gryffindors Quidditch team was led by Bahorel, another fellow "Amis". He was what could be called a "social butterfly", often bringing along some other students, who had seemed interested in the group. With his witty personality, he was often the one to talk with professors, since Enjolras would not remain calm enough. Still, one should not be deceived by his calm and friendly appearance. He was known, not to say no to a fight, especially, when somebody talked shit about his friends. He spent a lot of time in detention, but his friend's safety was more important to him than house points.

Only two Slytherins had joined the "Les Amis" until now. One of them being Éponine Thénardier, a harsh and brutally honest girl, one year younger than Enjolras. Her small and one might say unremarkable appearance, with long dark brown hair and brown eyes, did the fire within her heart no justice. She came from an impoverished family, which had been despised by the high society after being convicted of fraud. They had still kept their way of proudly strutting like peacocks among the rich and famous since they didn't have to go to prison and only lost their money.  
She had inherited none of that attitude, although she had been spoiled as a child. After she and her brother had been neglected by their parents, when they lost their money, she matured fast knowing that she was the only one, who truly cared about him. At first, she hadn't been sure about joining "Les Amis", since she doubted their impact at all and had still been struggling with her own life, but in the fourth year she had fallen for Marius and her feelings had driven her towards this group of people.  
Her brother Gavroche a first year Gryffindor, full-time varmint and the well-known horror of every soul on the school grounds, had jumped on the bandwagon and had also joined the group. He always said they needed him because he already knew this castle better than anybody else. But truth be told, he cared about his sister a lot and wanted to look after her.

There, of course, was the second Slytherin in the group. She was the reason for most of Marius sleepless nights. Cosette Fauchelevent, who seemed to be weirdly endeared by Marius' awkward attempts at flirting, had come from France some years ago. She had known Valjean since she had been a child and somehow ended up being his adoptee after her mother's death. Nobody had asked more questions seeing her pained look, whenever she talked about this topic. Her soft appearance did deceive, she was indeed a true Slytherin, with a sharp mind and the wits to achieve her goals no matter what. Getting Marius and herself together finally had been 90% her work and 10% Courfeyracs, who had been sure that Enjolras would hex Marius if the boy didn't stop talking about her all the time, in the middle of one of his meetings. Marius and she had been a couple for one year now and so she had finally become a part of the "Les Amis".  
Among all the members, who had become friends over those years, one always hadn't seemed to fit into their activism properly. The odd one out, but yet no less important than the rest of them. Grantaire was the one to ground every single one of them, especially Enjolras himself. No one was really sure, why he joined them, but one day he trotted into the classroom after Musichetta and he stayed, even when the girl had graduated. He was in the same year as Enjolras and yet the two of them had never really interacted or even noticed each other before. But twenty minutes into the first meeting they had already been at each other's throats. 

Frustrating. 

That's what Enjolras must have called Grantaire at least a thousand times over the last years. The black-haired muggle-born seemed to believe in nothing and nobody. He seemed to be quite the counterpart for Enjolras. But his brisk behavior deceived. Yes, he mocked Enjolras, whenever the boy talked about muggles because he knew so little about them, who was he to want to speak for them? Yes, he argued with the blond, whenever he had that feeling that his ideas had wandered away from the real point. But he didn't do it because he despised everything the other boy said, but because he knew that Enjolras could be even better. Because the truth was, he had felt drawn towards Enjolras from the first moment he had heard him talk. He didn't know what it had been, but he had wanted to capture every movement and every expression of his face. The first thing that had come to his mind had been "Apollo" because there stood the boy he had always imagined when his mother had told him the stories of the ancient gods. It was a sweet memory of a time without magic. Everybody would be phased when they found out, they had the power to use magic, but somehow Grantaire had always felt a bit off. 

His parents hadn't taken the news well and he didn't feel like he belonged in this society of stuck-up discriminating pure-bloods. His first years at Hogwarts had made him feel miserable and had later made him grow close towards Musichetta and the alcohol, muggle-alcohol, mind you, she usually provided. Whenever he couldn't really cope with everything around him Grantaire would sneak out of the castle, using one of the many secret tunnels Courfeyrac had discovered in his third week, to go to the Musain. Most of the time he would just sit between the two of them, and sometimes Joly when the latter had felt the need to see his loved ones and bitch about everything on his mind. His friends worried about his state, but they also knew that confronting him would only build walls between them since the younger boy would definitely not answer any questions. He seldom made any sense and Musichetta had more than once had to keep him from drinking himself into oblivion on cheap muggle-alcohol, but he felt at least a bit better in the end.  
A bitter feeling of hopelessness had manifested itself within his mind, not sure where it had come from or what exactly had caused it.  
So seeing this boy, this radiant god, had taken a toll on this despair. It had been a bittersweet feeling of nostalgia and a reminder of what had been his life. This Apollo was irritating, but Grantaire was drawn to him like a moth to the flame. Enjolras hadn't taken a liking to the nickname, demanding to know what it meant, but all of the muggle-borns and half-bloods in the room had stayed silent. "Maybe you should pay more attention in muggle-studies, Apollo.", had been Grantaire's only response.  
Despite the nature of their relationship, they had also managed to somehow become friends, not as close as Enjolras and Courfeyrac or Grantaire and Èponine, but they managed to not yell at each other for a respectable amount of time.

After looking back at their various campaigns they had run this school year, most of the members had left to celebrate the last days before the holidays with their friends.  
The core members of "Les Amis" were cluttered all over the room and spent talking about exams and their vacation plans. From every side Enjolras heard bits of "I'm visiting my grandmother!" and "Oh nice, I found this really cool place where I can work at." and it made him nervous hearing how happy everybody's summer would be. Because his clearly would end in a disaster, even worse than the years before.  
Courfeyrac must have noticed his agony because he spared him a pitying look from where he was sitting sandwiched between Marius and Combeferre. After exchanging a short look with the latter he rose his voice in order to silence the room. When everybody had shut up he slowly and as steadily as possible with several pints of butterbeer in his system, he stood up.  
"Friends!", he started, "Our dearest, most fearless leader over here," he vaguely gestured to Enjolras direction "needs us in an hour of darkness!"  
By Merlin, Enjolras could only groan in response. Somebody in the back of the room whooed at this and he was sure he could hear a mumbled: "Without us, he would be dead by now."  
"Dearest Ladies and Gentlemen, please shut the fuck up.", Courfeyrac continued. "Our little friend is turning 17 in two weeks and for the completely uneducated muggle borns among us - yes I may be looking at you R – that means he is going to be of age. Unfortunately, we have been told that his bigot parents are planning on disowning him on that very day."  
During the last two sentences, Enjolras had started to openly glare at his friend. This had been an information that he had told Courfeyrac and Combeferre in private.  
One of his parent's servants, who liked the boy, had told him about it, to give him a fair warning. Thanks to the old maid he had managed to secure his financial situation and at least be prepared for the humiliation that was going to meet him. True he despised his family, but being left with absolutely nothing at such a young age would be disastrous for his future. Since the wizarding world did not have any kind of reliable welfare system, such a cut in his finances would take every chance of higher education away from him.  


With the help of his two best friends, he had been able to prevent the worst, but he still had to go home for his birthday and he dreaded this day.  
Not noticing his friends' inner turmoil Courfeyrac had kept talking to the group and explained the rough outlines of the situation, leaving out the money part.  
"But, my fearless friends, I had the most amazing, nerve wrecking and hilarious idea ever.", a small cough made him stop for a second. "Ah yes, my dearest Combeferre helped, a bit. His parents want to make his 17th birthday the worst day in his life, but we can turn the tables. What could scare a pure-blood bigot more than a bunch of liberal teenagers, 'dirty mudbloods' and troublemakers, who support their son? So basically we join our boy here on that hard day and make their lives a living hell until we get thrown out of the house. Are you with me guys?"  
Before anybody could even answer a clear "No." cut them off.  
"This is definitely not going to happen!" Enjolras got up and stood face to face with Courfeyrac, whose cocky smile was still in place, not the least bit intimidated by the frown on the other boys' face.  
"Uhm yes. It is going to happen.", Gavroche mentioned from a far corner of the room. "Definitely going to happen!", Bahorel added.  
"Yes! This is going to be amazing!"  
"We should invite the others too!"  
"Just think of it! Bossuet and those little bigots!"  
Their chatter grew louder and louder, getting more and more anticipated. Enjolras could only look at his friends with a doubting look.  
"So as you can see, dearest Apollo," Enjolras shot Grantaire a sharp look, "It seems to be settled, we will do our best to piss them off, so you can leave your past with as much dignity as possible." He only spared Enjolras one more smirk, before grabbing a bottle of some blue muggle-alcohol, that looked extremely poisonous to Enjolras and swallowing down a lot of it at once.  
Combeferre was Enjolras' last hope. He must be sane enough to stop this insane idea, but he only nodded encouragingly. Not even an apologetic look on his face!  
One might call Enjolras stubborn and rigid, but even he knew to pick his battles and this one had been lost from the start.  
So all he did was sigh and nod in silent approval of this trainwreck Courfeyrac liked to call a plan.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello,  
> I want to thank you for the feedback! Writing in English is a first for me and I am so glad there are people, who like this small story.  
> Since I have quite a lot characters and all lot of headcanons for them, I decided to post backgrounds on my tumblr (bitterflowerchild). As soon as I find the time there will be posts about the characters and some other headcanons I have for them. You can also find me on twitter (@Herzgestolper), where I shamelessly rant about writing and even more headcanons.  
> Again thanks to E. for putting up with my confusing writing and my terrible comma placement.

#### Enjolras

Three weeks later Enjolras was back at his parent's house. It was a place that had never quite felt like 'home'. They lived all his life in a small town only populated by wizards, around four hours away from London. In this prestigious neighbourhood one intimidating mansion adjoined to the next one and with the high fences it gave the feeling of a gated community.  
Most of the houses were a dull grey, carefully hexed to never get any imperfection onto the walls. The grass was perfectly trimmed and in the gardens, servants were growing different herbs. If you would look at it for the first time it would seem like you just stepped into a weird model world. It was perfect in a rather unnatural way. The residents, all of pure-blood descent usually kept to themselves. It wasn't like you would see them out and about very often, not even the children.  
They did rather stay inside, locked away from the real outside world. If they left the house they travelled with the flee network or apparated.

That was at least how Enjolras' childhood had felt like. He grew up in the dark grey villa with the number 6. It wasn't the biggest house, but nonetheless an impressive view for every visitor. It was frankly unsettling. As an only child, Enjolras had taken a liking to follow around the servants, whenever he could and pester them with questions. He had even asked them about themselves. Nobody in this household cared very much about them, so when he had wanted to know their first names they had been shocked.  
Their household usually had three servants a maid, a cook and a gardener, who had been supported by several house-elves.  
When his parent had found out that their son mingled with the servants they had at first explained him, that these people were below him and no suiting company for him, but the five-year-old boy was having none of it. He had been tired of playing on his own and the servants were really nice to him.  
The gardener, Pierre, had taught him about the healing herbs he had been growing in the garden and what power each of them held. He had died right after Enjolras had gone away for Hogwarts and had since then been replaced with a stern-looking man, who didn't even spare Enjolras a glance. He had never asked but he was fairly sure his parents had made sure to let the man know not to interact with their son. Since then the boy had avoided the gardens.  
Meanwhile, the cook, a young man, called John, showed him all the meals he actually wasn't allowed to cook and how to make himself a meal. When his parents had denied him dinner, he let the maid bring food and even sweets to the boy.  
From all of them, he had been closest to the maid, a young and kind woman called Mary, who had told him he reminded her of her smaller sibling. They had been living at an orphanage. She had also been the one, who had told Enjolras the whole truth about house-elves and thus had started a rather turbulent time in the household.  
It had been when Enjolras was about seven and he had asked the maid, why the house-elves never really spoke to him and flinched whenever he got too close to them. Choosing her words carefully in order not to scare the little boy too much the woman had told him about the role of house-elves and how they were usually treated by wizards.  
"They basically are slaves. Unlike us servants, they don't get a salary and they aren't free to leave whenever they want." She had looked at him earnestly and the small boy mimicked her impression, as she had explained. He had also chewed on his lower lip nervously.  
"So there is like no way out for them? And wizards are allowed to do anything? But what if they hurt them? That cannot be allowed!" He exclaimed, just noticing the whole purview of this.  
"Oh my sweet boy, that's what they do. They treat them very badly. Some even punch them just for their own stress relief. But yes, there is something you could do. A house-elf is free when he gets a piece of clothing as a present from his master. And I guess you are one of their masters."  
She had been able to see the boy lighten up as an idea had formed in his mind. She had frowned a bit as she kept talking.  
"I can see what you think right now, but please wait for a second and let me explain further."  
Enjolras' determined face did fall a bit, but he had looked at her expectantly as she had talked again.  
"Some of them don't take that well. They have been told that they are worthless their whole life, they don't know that kind of freedom you want to give to them. And they also have pride! That means they might not like their role, but they take it with the utmost pride I have ever seen. So setting them free without a further idea might sound good, but many may take... they might be very unhappy.”  
The boy had looked completely destroyed and the maid hadn't been sure if she should have told him that.  
Tears had begun to form in his eyes, but then he jerked his head to the side.  
"Wait!”, he exclaimed and she had shushed him, for speaking so loudly. “  
But I think I have an idea! You have told me of that orphanage, where your siblings live, haven't you?"  
And as the maid had listened to the boy's adventurous idea a small smile crept onto her face. When she had come to this family she had expected many things, but not this little boy with the heart at the right place and a witty mind.

Only two weeks later the boy had talked to the house-elves and explained his idea to them. He would set them free and he had heard of an orphanage that would treat them much better, where they could go if they wanted to. If not they were free to go where ever they'd like to go. It had taken quite some time to make his background clear to the small really upset elves, but with the help of the maid it had all worked out in the end.

So when his parents had woken up one day all of their elves had been gone and their son had missed several pieces of clothing. They had scolded him, hadn't allowed him to leave his room for two weeks, but in the end, since he wouldn't have been allowed to leave the house anyway this form of punishment had lacked its point.  
Over the course of time, Enjolras must have given half of his wardrobe away, until at some point his parents had unwillingly given up and hired three more servants. 

Until this day that had been Enjolras biggest victory. 

Right now he was lying on his bed in his childhood room. It was his small safe haven in this dark house. Every single room somehow seemed to lack light and often felt narrowing to be in, so he had done his best to at least achieve a homely atmosphere in his own room.  
Instead of a fine designed dark wood paneling, the walls were decorated with light blue wallpapers, which, on some spots depicted small waves and ships. In front the window stood a massive desk, with books clattered on it. His wardrobe was on the wall opposite the bed. The only thing that reminded of the houses old age was the big fireplace he never used.  
All over the walls, Enjolras had pinned photos of his friends, small rays of hope for every seemingly endless summer he had to spend away from them. He didn't have to take them down since he had a copy of each of them already in one of his suitcases, that stood next to his bed. He would only have to finish packing his books and then he was good to go.  
Go away from this place for the last time. Never would he want to come back here, that was for sure.  
And today was the day, his birthday. Mixed feelings had made his head spin for the last days, he hadn't really slept last night. Or the night before. The future had never seemed so unsure and if he was honest, he feared it. A lot, actually.

A quick glance at his clock told him, he had a bit more than one more hour until his parents would arrive home and call him down to “celebrate”. At the thought, he almost laughed out loud. It was going to be ridiculous. At least his friends would be there. He really hoped they would make it.

With a sigh, he got up in order to pack his books in the last suitcase. Just as he grabbed for _“Basics of muggle studies”_ a knock on his door made him stop dead in his tracks.  
Did he forget the time? Were his parents already back?  
“Come in!”, he called, his voice slightly unsteady.  
The person, who came in wasn't one of his parents, but Mary. With a sad smile on her face, she entered the room. She had aged fast in the years he had spent away at Hogwarts. She was no longer the young girl, who had helped him to free the house-elves, but a grown up woman with wrinkles around her kind eyes. He knew that her siblings were no longer at the orphanage, she sometimes still wrote him letters to tell him about them. He really hoped she would keep doing that.  
“Hello, my dear. Happy birthday”, she hugged him briefly but firmly.  
He hugged her back, trying to ignore the lump in his throat by only thanking her shortly.  
“Are they back already?”, he asked trying to conceal his nervousness.  
“No, they're not, but I have to go. The Miss decided to let me run this week's errands early. She kept me busy today, I would have loved to talk to you more.” She patted him on the shoulder.  
“My guess she wanted me out of the house before they talk to you.” She stopped and took a deep breath, clearly struggling with the words.  
“My dearest boy, I am glad you are finally getting out of this hell. I would love to be here with you, have your back. I am so sorry.”  
Enjolras didn't know, what to say. The situation he had dreaded for so long had just gotten cruel reality. He didn't want to say goodbye to her.  
“It's fine! You have already done so much for me, more than I could have ever asked for. My friends will be here, so I will cope. Just...” He had to swallow. “Just promise me you will keep sending me letters when the next school year starts, okay?”  
She nodded and hugged him again. “I'm so sorry, but I really have to go.”  
Slowly she walked to the door and disappeared without another word.  
Enjolras was left there looking after her and mumbling a “goodbye” to the empty air before he got back to his books.

He had just finished packing when he heard rumbling from the fireplace as green flames lit up. Before he could prepare himself, two figures stumbled out of green flames.  
“Good morning to the birthday boy!”, Courfeyrac basically threw himself at Enjolras and clung to him like a small monkey.  
Combeferre at least had the decency to clear his clothes of ash, before he hugged both of his best friends and congratulated Enjolras.  
“You're grown up now! Took you long enough.”  
Despite the fact that Courfeyrac's death grip on his upper body made it somewhat hard to breathe he felt a lot more at peace already and more able to speak.  
“Thanks, guys. Where did you come from?”, he asked while trying to wriggle away from Courfeyrac. The latter only tightened his arms around him, answering: “All of us went to Joly's. They are the only ones with a good functioning flee-systems, also his parents didn't ask any questions.”  
Enjolras looked at Combeferre with a raised eyebrow but he only shrugged. “The rest of us should come soon. Everybody except Marius has already been there, so yeah..”  
Another rumbling, this time mixed with colourful swearing interrupted Combeferre and the next two people got out of the fireplace. A smiling Jean with his hands around Bahorels shoulders was the next to jump at him.  
“Ah here is my birthday boy!”  
Within the next ten minutes, Enjolras room filled, while all of his friends stepped out of the green fire, wishing him a happy birthday. Joly actually went twice, already bringing Enjolras luggage back to his place in case they had to flee the place rather quickly. They would head there as soon as this whole affair was over.  
They had all gathered in his room, even Musichetta and Bossuet had come here today and Enjolras felt his anxiety slowly fade more with every second. Only Cosette was missing, as Marius explained, but she had sent her regards, birthday wishes and really hoped it would turn out okay.  
Everybody was talking and kept making fun suggestions on how to shock his parents until of all people Courfeyrac had yet another “master plan”.  
Honestly, somebody should restrain him from even using that word. But unsurprisingly nobody did and so he was yet able to word another flash of wit. He cleared his throat loudly to make his friends shut up and actually climbed on top of Enjolras' desk to make the whole situation even worse.  
“Guys and girls, I have another absolutely amazing idea.” A disaster.  
“We know how awful his parents are, don't we?” Humiliating.  
Affirmative yet quite confused mumbling was the answer.  
“And he didn't even come out to them, right?” Oh shit.

“Wait!”, Enjolras tried to intervene, but Jean slapped his hand over his mouth hissing weirdly good-heartedly: “Shut up, I might like where this is going!”  
Completely unperturbed Coufeyrac continued: “So how about, to just make everything the worst of the worst, we give him a ... please imagine drum rolls right now.” He seriously made a pause of about five seconds before he continued. “Boyfriend.”  
Enjolras would die.  
Definitely, die.  
His parents would kill him.  
But once again he was outvoted, sometimes democracy was cruel as Jean pointed out, and soon the only question was, who would play his boyfriend.  
Jean had once again decided it was his time to shine, as he was somehow the resident romance expert, and stab his friend in the back.  
“Okay, so for this situation”, he started unruly playing with the end of his artfully plaited braid, “we should take the one person, who is most unfitting for this uhm.” He let his eyes wander over the room. “ Let's call it environment.”  
Smiling, he faced the “Amis”.  
“Let me see... Combeferre is too much of a perfect son-in-law, Courf sorry but this wouldn't work, you would scare Enjolras to death and not his parents. Hmm, Joly and Bossuet are also out, myself as well, just saying. Hm, Bahorel? No, no! You would probably punch somebody and you can't get sued - again - this week.” He paused, clearly thinking hard. A small wrinkle appeared on his forehead.  
“Hey, R, how old is this hoodie?”  
Jean had never looked more terrifying, his now broad grin not matching the cunning look in his eyes.  
“Jean, no!”, Grantaire and Enjolras exclaimed in unison.  
This could not happen!  
Out of all people, Enjolras should act like Grantaire was his boyfriend? The person he loved? This was ridiculous.  
He was pretty sure not even “Amortentia” would be able to make him act like that. It wasn't like he hated Grantaire, but he just had a hard time understanding the boy and his behaviour. Somebody, who seemed so careless was definitely not the best pretend-love.  
“Jean, yes!”, said boy answered grinning widely. He sat down next to Grantaire, who was lying on the bed, suddenly seeming very uncomfortable in his own skin.  
“Look Enjolras. Look at him!”, he pinched Grantaires cheeks playfully, “Look at everything. His messy hair, his jeans with holes in them. Look at the paint stains on his shirt! He is every mother's absolute nightmare! Uhm, no offense!”  
The last sentence was added quickly after Grantaires had started to huff and bat Jean's hands away from his face. 

Actually, maybe this idea wasn't that bad.  
Enjolras started to examine Grantaire closely. His wild curly black hair seemed to be unkempt and there was a slight stubble on his cheeks. He also looked alarmingly tired as if he hadn't slept for the last few days, just like Enjolras himself. His eyes were dull, completely lacking the spark they usually held when he was around his friends. The longer he looked at the other boy the more Enjolras thought to himself: “Why not?”  
If it would make his parents hate him even more, it was perfect. There was nothing they could do to him as soon as he left this house so there was nothing to lose. He just had to get over himself and stand close to Grantaire for maybe half an hour. He would do this for a higher cause.  
So in the end, because this whole day was already unbelievably surreal and “Why not?”, he just shrugged and answered the silent question asked by his friends.  
“Yeah, okay. Why not? I mean, if you are okay with this Grantaire.” He looked at the other boy expectantly, but Grantaire just shrugged.  
“Uhm I mean, if it pisses off those assholes, I'm in.”, he gave him a mischievous smile.  
Enjolras nodded in approvement and turned around until he faced Courfeyrac again. “So since it's your plan, what are we supposed to do?”  
The other boy just gaped at him, before he broke out in hysterical laughter, that made Combeferre, who stood close to him, flinch and step back.  
“Oh well, I would have never thought you would really do this. Oh boy, coming of age really made you a much more interesting person.”  
Enjolras only rolled his eyes and waited for his friend to continue.  
“Yeah, so I don't know, when you introduce the lot of us, just call him your boyfriend, hold his hand. You know, no need to make out in front of your parents, except if this is the thing the both of you are into, then just go ahead and give them a show... I mean.. it's not like any of you would have a problem with this...”  
Thank God for Combeferre, who stopped this rambling by putting his hand over Courfeyrac's mouth.  
He spoke more calmly: “If you really want to do this, and let me tell you I am all in because this would be hilarious, then no need to put on that much of a show. Just hold hands or something. Right Courf?”  
The smaller boy struggled even tried licking his friend's hand in order to get free, but no chance - Combeferre knew his dirty tricks. In the end, he nodded in defeat.

Soon Enjolras heard the telltale sign of the heavy front door opening and closing again with a loud thump.  
He sighed and got up, from where had been sitting between Courfeyrac and Eponine on the ground.  
“They're home.”, he said to nobody in particular and turned to towards the door. “Follow me. And uhm R we should probably hold hands.” He added quieter. Grantaire stepped to his side and took Enjolras' clammy hand into his, tightening the grip shortly as if he wanted to assure him that this was going to be alright. Enjolras flashed him a short and tight smile and then started to walk down the narrow stairs, all of his friends following him.

His parents were in the big study, they used for social events and important meetings. When Enjolras stepped in the room, he knew he would let his eyes roam over everything for the last time. Two walls were lined with bookshelves and he knew Combeferre would use every second here to look at them closely. The big window opposite the door was surrounded by dark curtains, which made everything darker, despite being open. On the third wall, a big tapestry was spread. It was an heirloom, unbelievably old and smelling faintly of mothballs. But his parents still thought highly of it.  
Enjolras wondered who would inherit this monstrosity. Probably one of his countless cousins.  
The tapestry depicted all of his ancestors, everybody who was part of the big family. A few faces had been burned out, they had been disowned. It was just as much of a tradition as the tapestry itself. Every pureblood family he knew had this mindset of having to completely erase members, who didn't share their beliefs. He looked at the bottom right corner, where a rather stern version of himself had been depicted.  
He couldn't wait to be taken down from this thing.  
His father and his mother both stood with their backs to the door, quietly talking to each other.  
They hadn't noticed his arrival or had simply ignored it, so he had to cough, to make them look up.  
Their looks, when they saw his friends was priceless. He couldn't even decide who got the most disgusted look it was either Courfeyrac, whom they had gotten to know for exactly 5 minutes after his first year or Éponine and Gavroche. The latter, definitely. His parents knew them, from earlier days, when the Thénardiers were still rich and socially accepted. The disgusted look on his mother's face was underlined by the way she took a step back. She didn't even stoop to look at the teenagers in the room. Meanwhile, his father kept an emotionless countenance. But his blue eyes were piercing and he stood a bit more upright as he examined all of his son's friends.  
“Mother, father my friends decided to visit me. For my birthday.”, he tried to look calm. He tried his best not to look as furious and angsty as he truly was. Grantaire next to him squeezed his hand again.  
“Of course.”, his father spoke up. His mother only kept her look on her son, still not trying to hide her disdain. He shortly introduced them, there wasn't even a change in their faces, as he called Grantaire his boyfriend. So much for the “master plan”.

“We were just going to let the cake be brought in.”, he continued, while his mother rung a small bell to call the servants.  
The gesture for some reason tied Enjolras' belly in a knot.  
He hadn't heard that bell for a long time.  
His father spoke up again after he finished giving the group a last once-over. Marius had caught his attention.  
“Well, son, I hadn't known you at least kept some suitable contacts. Pontmercy, am I right?”  
Èponine had to step Marius on his foot to make him answer. The boy looked like a deer in the headlights. “Uh yes, Sir.”  
“You just have your father's face. A great wizard, powerful and a great friend of blood purity.” He paused shortly as if he waited for a reaction from his son.  
“So, do you at least keep up your family's reputation in Slytherin? Since my son rather fails in this department.”  
Enjolras did his best to ignore the stab and looked straight ahead at the window.  
“Actually Sir... I am a Hufflepuff, but yes I do have a rather good reputation among my housemates, I'd say. So, at some point, I am more than my father. I stand for more important things than old principles.” His face was stern, with no sign of fear.  
Several of the teenagers took a sharp breath. Nobody had ever believed Marius to speak up to somebody this terrifying as the man in front of them. But just as fast as his courage had come, it was gone and he slowly got closer to Bahorel, probably fearing for his life. Something everybody considered relatable.  
Enjolras' father let out an ironic laugh.  
“Of course. Well, I guess every family has its black sheep, just your luck you found each other. I don't think there are any more honorable families among your friends, son?”  
Enjolras tensed visibly and gritted his teeth.  
“There are, but none who would like to get to know you.”, he answered, doing his best to hide the small quiver in his voice.  
Before anybody could say something else, Combeferre took the chance, to lighten the mood. At least he tried. “Sir, let me please ask you something.” The man seized the tall boy up and decided he at least wanted to know, what he had to say.  
“Do you take a liking in obsolete literature or why are none of your books up to date?”  
Luckily the new servants arrived with rather lovelessly made cake and tea before Combeferre could get an extremely rude answer. Instead, his father talked to the servants about please staying, since it wouldn't take too long until they should take the stuff back to the kitchen.  
Feuilly, good-natured as he had always been, tried to chat up the two maids, who just looked through him.  
“So how have you gotten this job?”  
No answer.  
“Do they even pay the minimum wage?”  
Silence.  
“Wait, do you even have a minimum wage? If not, then you'd be messed up. But I could definitely get you a much better job.”  
No reaction.  
“Well, I mean if you do like it here that much. I'm not one to judge.”

His parents didn't even ask his friends if they wanted anything, but nothing had ever been able to stop Gavroche when food was involved. He escaped his sister's death grip on his shoulder and just casually got up to the desk, where the cake had been placed. He cut off a giant piece of it, sat himself down on the desk and started eating, much to the horror of everybody involved.  
“I really don't understand, why none of you eats. This stuff is amazing.”, he spoke between some bites. “Hey don't you want some? Uh, I mean... Sir?”  
Gavroche held his plate to Enjolras father, who didn't even bother with a reaction.  
“So son.”, he didn't look into Enjolras eyes, he kept staring at a spot on the wall behind him.  
Enjolras had to gulp heavily.  
This was it. It was going to happen. He felt that all of his friends slowly came closer to him. He felt Grantaire's hand in his, Combeferre's on his shoulder. Courfeyrac had somehow slung one arm around his hip and Jean had started to play with his hair.  
He felt reassured, that he wasn't alone in this. He knew that his friends wouldn't be able to prevent whatever was going to happen from happening. They knew that as well, they were here to support him. He wouldn't have to be alone in this.  
Slowly, Enjolras closed his eyes, took a deep breath and faced his father. He would not flinch.  
No.  
He would look him in the eyes.  
“You are 17 now and in those 17 years, you have done nothing but disgrace our family, while still living off its money. We have still done our best to accept you and to righten your views, but you are old enough now. And this is it. You have now reached your goal, you never wanted to be a part of this prestigious family. We have decided to disown you.”

That was it.  
Enjolras hadn't noticed that he had held his breath until he exhaled heavily. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to say anything, in his mind he had often thought about this situation, but when it came, there wasn't anything to say.  
“Good.”, he nodded towards his parents.  
In the background, he could hear Feuilly mumbling at the servants, something about trade unions and why wizards had apparently never heard of them.  
Gavroche still, completely unfazed, kept eating the cake. 

He wasn't sure if there was supposed to be a silence before a storm.  
In his mind, this scene had contained way more shouting. But his parents seemed oddly calm.  
At least until his mother took out her wand and aimed at the tapestry.  
Out of the corner of his eye, Enjolras could see Combeferre smirk and nudge Courfeyrac in the side, mouthing something like “Look”. He also had his wand in his hand aiming at the wall.  
And if anybody of “Les Amis” had ever underestimated Combeferre's intelligence or his darker side, completely influenced by Courfeyrac, this moment proved them wrong.  
As his mother silently spoke the spell, that should burn the small patch of fabric, Combeferre mumbled something under his breath and instead of just a small part, the whole tapestry caught on fire.  
And then there was the shouting Enjolras had anticipated.  
“Stop it!” his mother screamed in outright horror at the servants. “Move, you useless vermin!”  
His father had started to curse under his breath, trying to come up with a spell to extinguish the fire. But nothing worked. He threw spell after spell at the walls. Water came out of his wand and made him dripping wet. The tapestry just kept burning. Thick smoke started to fill the room. It got harder to breathe and their eyes watered.  
“This is not possible! For centuries it had been secured with spells so it's only inflammable by this one!”, his mother exclaimed between coughing.  
The servants came back into the room with buckets of water, pouring it on the flames, without success.  
His father turned to the group, fuming with his wand raised.  
“What have you done? You sad excuse of a wizard! What have you done?”, he pointed his wand at Enjolras' chest.  
“It wasn't him, but me,” Combeferre explained calmly. “As I told you, your magic is backward. It was the easiest thing in the world to come up with a new spell.”  
With those words and a charming smile, he swatted the wand out of the man's hand.  
“And now I think we should get going.”, Joly added.  
“You are going nowhere! You dirty mud-bloods!”, his mother screamed holding onto Courfeyrac's shoulder.  
“Yes, we should.”, with those words he disapparated, taking Gavroche with him. The others followed suit. Enjolras, who wasn't really good at apparating looked around in panic. But Grantaire took his other hand as well and gave him a smile.  
“Ready to go?”, he asked.  
“I have been ready before they started insulting you.”, Enjolras answered, a small quiver in his voice.  
He glanced at his parents for the last time, their motions becoming a blur. He heard his father scream _“Sectumsempra”_ and felt a sharp pain on his forehead. 

When he came back to consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the dull pain. Slowly he opened his eyes. It took some time to get used to the brightness. He didn't know where they were since this was definitely not Joly's flat.


	3. Chapter 3

Looking around Enjolras got only more confused. Yes, this definitely wasn't Joly's flat. He found himself laying on a rather comfortable sofa in the middle of a spacious room.  
“Yeah, you're at my place actually.”, Grantaire, who was sitting in an armchair across the room, explained to him. “Or it's more my parents' summer house. But they aren't here so uhm. My place.”, he added.  
Enjolras, still confused, looked at him, then around the room and back to Grantaire. The last thing he remembered was that they had fled from his parents and something had hit his head rather badly. Ah yes, now as he remembered he also noticed the still throbbing pain on his temple, though it had lessened.  
“Uhm okay, but why are we here?” he asked nobody in particular.  
Combeferre, who sat next to Courfeyrac on the floor, propped up against a bookshelf piped up.  
“Well, we had to get the fuck out of there, as you might have noticed. Actually, somebody should get Joly inside, I don't care if he is inspecting the herbs in the garden.”  
Jean took this as his cue to get up from another sofa opposite Enjolras' and left through a glass door into the garden.  
“Uhm yeah. As I said we had to get out of there after your father had hexed you. You are actually lucky you came out of this without long-term consequences.” Joly came inside looking even more worried than usual, his voice was tense. He kneeled down next to Enjolras, who hadn't dared to sit up until now. But when he tried the other boy only gave him a disapproving glance and beckoned him to stay like that. With a practiced hand movement, he removed the big plaster from Enjolra's temple and started to examine the wound. His mimic was serious as his dark eyes roamed over the lightly bleeding cut. He sighed softly and turned around to face the rest of his friends.  
“As I had thought. It doesn't stop bleeding. Right now all I can do is control the damage until I get the right ointment from Hogwarts.” He grabbed for a small tin and started to apply some strongly herbal smelling balm on Enjolras' skin. When it touched the open flesh the blond boy hissed in pain.  
“Ouch! What is this? And why doesn't it heal?”  
With a pained expression, he gritted his teeth and tried not to scream. That stuff hurt more than whatever crazy thing had caused this wound. Joly took his time to finish his treatment before he spoke up again.  
“That was your father. He used a hex on you that not many people have heard of. As you may know, Hogwarts keeps stuff that happens among students away from easily frightened parents.”  
Enjolras nodded as well as the rest of them. More than once had they criticised this procedure, that had been dictated by the ministry of magic.  
“You had a lot of luck, that I had learned about this when I volunteered in the infirmary after the Quidditch games. Apparently, this hex had been developed by a student some years ago and it had been used by a small group of rather troublesome purebloods. They had planned to use it against muggle-borns. It's a nasty hex, cutting deep into the flesh and to make things worse it prevents it from being healed with conventional methods. They had needed a lot of research to find a cure. And even longer to find the responsible students. Well, I think we have found one of them today as well. I am sorry, your father is such a...” He huffed not ending this sentence.  
Enjolras only sighed and tried to find a more comfortable position to lie. The sofa might not be totally uncomfortable, but right now he felt like he had spent ages on it.  
“It's not like I could say I am even the least bit surprised. But that still does not explain why we are at Grantaire's house right now.”  
“Ah yes.”, Combeferre shrugged apologetically. “As I said we took you away from there and we went to Joly's at first, but since he is going to spend his summer in Hogsmeade as soon as you are healed, we knew we couldn't stay there. And well. Jehan's flat is too small, so is Bahorel's, Musichetta and Bossuet won't be here much longer, Marius lives too far up in the north and we want a nice summer. And Éponine and Gavroche spend every summer here anyway, so it seemed natural. And well. I am not taking you home with Courf or me ever again.”  
The last part made Courfeyrac snicker in delight and the rest of the Amis look rather confused. Enjolras only groaned ignoring the questioning looks cast in his direction.  
“That was literally one time!”, he hissed.  
“You told my mother's book club the mugglebook they read was misogynistic bullshit!”  
“It very much was!”  
“It's from the 18th century, of course, it's shit when it comes to women! And they knew this!! That's what they discussed!”  
“Still...”  
“Don't start to pout again!”  
“I am not pouting! I am actually afraid, if I move my face too much this thing will never heal.”  
Okay, yes Enjolras had to admit, that he was pouting. A really small bit. But really, that book had been terrible. And Combeferre's mother hadn't invited him to her book club ever again, what he still considered a bit rude.  
“Joly please tell him this isn't possible.”, Bahorel sounded a bit alarmed as he rose his voice.  
“Actually,”, Joly hesitated for a second. “It might.”  
“Oh by Merlin, somebody has to teach this boy some bedside manners!”

Something in the treatment had made Enjolras sleepy and before he even realized it he fell asleep again to the constant chatter of his friends. 

He was woken up again some hours later, by a soft voice.  
“Hey, Enjolras Joly got the stuff from Hogwarts, he is just preparing and then it can be applied.” It was Grantaire, only his shadow visible in the dark of the living room. The rest of his friends had probably retreated to their bedrooms. He remembered Jean gleefully mentioning something about enough bedrooms, so two could share one before he had gone back to sleep.  
His face still hurt like hell as he slowly sat up to face Grantaire, who looked at him with a worried expression. The boy handed him a glass of water, which Enjolras downed in one go. His whole body felt just weird and he wasn't quite sure, what he was supposed to feel right now. Everything was just off. So many things had happened in the last 24 hours and he wanted to sort this out, but his body ached for more sleep. He could sleep for days.  
Joly came into the room from the kitchen carrying a bowl in his hands. He turned on the small lamp on the side table and the bright light made Enjolras wince. “Thank god there is always somebody at the infirmary. Okay, take the plaster off and let me have another look at this.”  
The broad reassuring smile on Joly's face made his anxiety go away a bit, still, Enjolras wasn't even sure if this was going to work.  
He hadn't seen his face, but judging by the expressions on his friends' faces earlier that day and the fact that he knew this father did nothing half-assed, he was sure it looked horrifying. It wasn't like he cared a lot about his complexion. He couldn't care less to be honest, but the mere thought of having this mark of his father's rage on his body, visible for everybody made panic rise inside his body.  
But Joly knew what he did. This was going to be okay.  
Still, he grabbed for Grantaire's hand, without noticing it, when Joly took place in front of him.  
“Lumos!”, Joly whispered his wand in his left hand and a soft blue light brightned up the room. Dark shadows danced on the walls at which Enjolras stared fixedly. He felt Joly's hand on his temple as he pulled the plaster away. It hurt like hell, but a second later it was gone and the other two boys took a look at the wound. Both of them inhaled sharply at the view.  
“Shit! Is it still bleeding? What the fuck is this?”, Grantaire exclaimed, a disgusted look on his face. He squeezed Enjolras hand, not sure if it was to reassure the other boy of himself.  
Joly, on the other hand, didn't seem very fazed, after he had gotten used to it.  
“Yeah, don't worry, that's actually normal. Okay, I am applying the ointment now. It will burn a small bit. After that, you go to bed. And yes a bed, not the sofa. You need some relaxing sleep and I know for a fact that your back will kill you if you spend more than one night on this monstrosity. It should look better in the morning, okay?”  
Enjolras just mumbled an “Okay.” He still wasn't over Grantaire's reaction and some part of him wanted to see the damage himself. Enjolras hadn't noticed he had started to breathe heavily until he felt Grantaire tighten the grip on his hand once again and drawing small circles on his skin with his thumb.  
Applying the ointment didn't take much time and as soon as Joly was finished dabbing it on Enjolras' skin with trained motions he added a new plaster. With a last nod, he declared the wound as adequately treated and got up from where he had been on the ground.  
“This should help, you need to apply it anew every day and change the plaster. I think it will be okay within a week or something like that. I will leave it here.”  
He hesitated shortly before he added: “If it isn't better by then send me an owl, I will be at Hogwarts or at the Musain.” The other two boys only nodded, Grantaire probably tired and Enjolras still a bit in pain and kind of dizzy.  
Joly let his eyes wander over the two of them, how they sat unusally close, still a bit uncomfortable around one another, like always but he hadn't seen them so close for such an amount of time without an argument.  
“So uhm we will leave tomorrow very early, so I'll head to bed. So should you two. And rest!” He cast them a stern look before he hugged each of them and went towards the room Musichetta, Bossuet and he shared.  
Enjolras and Grantaire were left sitting on the sofa in the now dark living room. Both of them didn't really dare to move.  
It was Enjolras, who began to speak again.  
“Uhm so, I just wanted to thank you, for the stuff at my house today...” his voice broke at the end of the sentence and he stared at the wooden floor. This was embarrassing, he was usually never short on words.  
“Yeah, it's nothing. Like I didn't even say anything. Like I am even a shitty fake-boyfriend... oh my god, that didn't even shock them...” he chuckled lightly and Enjolras had to swallow. He hadn't come to think of this until now. Apparently, his parents knew him better than he had imagined. Or maybe they had just made a worst-case scenario, which he seemed to fulfill.  
“And I didn't prevent you from being almost killed by your mad father... So yeah really I should have done something.”, Grantaire answered, nervously picking at the sleeves of his hoodie.  
“No. I mean you were there and you just really calmed me down and... Really thank you...” Enjolras didn't mention that it had mostly been the hand-holding, that had helped him keeping calm. The hand-holding, that as he just noticed they were still doing right now. He slowly lifted his hand away from Grantaire's to tuck a curl behind his ear. It seemed rather inappropriate to mention the weirdness, now after all of this was over.  
“Yeah uhm you're welcome.”, Grantaire mumbled. That left the both of them in an uncomfortable silence, sitting somewhat too close to each other, both of them lost in their own heads.  
A few minutes later Grantaire awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uhm we should go to bed. Since you were kinda dead to the world everybody has already chosen their rooms and that means you are left with me?” It sounded more like a question, but Enjorlas was too tired to think about it. He just nodded.  
“Yeah, it's okay. Just” he yawned, “Sorry. Just lead the way.”  
“Alright.”

Three days later Enjolras was back to his normal self. Something that showed, when he once again got into another argument with Grantaire.  
Combeferre and Courfeyrac had been “fucking rudely awoken in the fucking middle of the night” how Courfeyrac had put it, by the two boys shouting in their room, which was next to their own.  
What they found there was not what they had expected.  
Grantaire was in nothing but a towel, and Enjolras was only in boxer shorts, both of them standing nose to nose, staring at each other.  
“And I still don't know what your damn problem is! This is supposed to help them!”  
“Oh come on. You want to help?? You of all people want to help muggle-borns??”  
“Yes, what is so wrong about this? Everybody can see they are treated badly in the society and that needs to stop.”  
“Don't you see what a fucking hypocrite you are? You have no fucking idea about muggles.”  
“I do.”  
“For fuck's sake Enjolras! You notice that the stuff you learn in muggle studies is mostly bullshit?”  
“But...”  
“No, but! You have no idea how muggles live! You have no idea how we are treated in muggle society. And don't even tell me about how you spent one or two summers with Courf and Combeferre! You of all people! You, who always preaches about educating one self! You have no idea about anything! You are the worst hypocrite I ever met! It makes you no better than those other pureblood assholes, you hate so much.”

Their two spectators breathed in sharply. This wasn't going to end well. This time Grantaire had gone too far. Combeferre wanted to make a step towards the two boys, who had gone silent.  
Grantaire looking grossed out and Enjolras with his determined “argument frown”. A look that might be able to scare a lesser man, and sometimes Marius, to death. Courfeyrac gripped his wrist and almost unnoticeably shook his head 'No'.  
He was pretty sure Enjolras would slap Grantaire since that had definitely been what Grantaire had aimed for. He had never seen the blond boy hurt anybody, but this could be the first time.  
Instead, Enjolras took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  
When he opened them again the frown had disappeared. “You know what? I think can actually see, where this argumentation is coming from. You have a point there. My upbringing did nothing to educate me and Hogwarts is also not without flaws. But if you are so adamant about this, why not help me? So would you like to show me the muggleworld?”  
“I... what now?”, Grantaire sputtered.  
“You heard me. I, for once, think you might be right. So I ask you to, for once, do something.”  
“And what?”, Grantaire's face had completely fallen, he looked wonderstruck.  
“Anything. Show me how muggles live, make me understand them.” Enjolras shrugged. His face of angry determination had changed to one of just determination, which still was quite scary. A determination to understand everything about muggles as soon as possible. And since apparently, this was nothing to learn from books, Grantaire could as well show him.  
“I... Okay.”, Grantaire took a step back and brought at least some space between them so they didn't almost touch with their noses. “I uhm should just get some clothes and then we can head out...”  
“Yeah good.” Enjolras nodded and looked at himself blushing slightly. “I should probably get some clothes as well.”  
Grantaire left the room for the bathroom with a bundle of clothes and left Enjolras standing in the middle of the small room still a bit confused about his own idea. Their two spectators also left the scene, not less confused.  
He shook his head and started rummaging through one of his suitcases in search for clothes. Grantaire's room was similar to the rooms, where the other boys lived. It was just a bit more lived in. Two small beds with light green covers on each side, a wardrobe none of the two bothered to use. There were posters and prints of paintings on the walls. They didn't move a rather unsettling circumstance if you asked the blond boy.  
Apparently, Grantaire was keen on muggle arts, there were different artists all over the walls, none Enjolras could identify.  
Wizards usually didn't really care about the fine arts, with pictures moving and talking it was more a concern to keep them from doing obscene things, insult the viewer or just disappear. An art gallery would be a rather unrewarding institution for everybody involved. Muggle-paintings held much more appeal. With an artist having to choose the exact moment he wanted to pinpoint and then having to make the emotions show without a sentient painting, that could talk. When he looked at a weird face-like scheme, he actually wondered what this painting might have to say... Maybe something about “why the fuck is my second eye all the way up here?”. A small look at the signature made him wonder what had been wrong with that artist named Picasso. Enjolras hoped that they were fine.  
He let his eyes roam over the print of a nightly landscape. While he didn't understand the streaky brushwork, he somehow liked it. At home, the only art they had were that of ancestors. In their family, a portrait was usually one of the presents given to one at their wedding. And he was rather glad this would never happen. A sentient, talking painting of himself weirded him out, even as a wizard.  
With the room being on the southern side of the house, there also was a small balcony and Enjolras stepped out there as soon as he had finished putting on some clothes he deemed not too conspicuous among muggles.  
He clearly remembered the first time he had spent two weeks of his summer with Courfeyrac and Combeferre. It had been after their second year and when Courfeyrac had looked at his suitcase for the first time he had actually had a laughing fit. It had ended with him dragging Enjolras out to go shopping, a rather shocking experience. Since then Combeferre's and Courfeyrac's mothers sent him clothes every Christmas and birthday because they knew his parents did definitely not approve of that clothing style. But he definitely would not wear button-downs during his summer break.  
As soon as he was finished putting on clothes he stepped out on the small balcony and took a look around. He wasn't really sure, where they exactly were.  
“Somewhere in the south.”, Joly had told him, but that was rather unspecific.  
The view he was granted was still impressive. They were located at what he thought was not too far away from the coast. He couldn't see the sea, but still heard seagulls every now and then. The house was located on the edge of a forest. But where he stood he could see hundreds of meters of plain fields. It seemed endless and made Enjolras wonder if there were any neighbours anywhere. Not that he cared, being alone out here away from the prying eyes of muggles sounded delightful.  
He heard the door to the balcony crack and turned around to see Grantaire approach him, now also fully dressed.  
“You like the view?”, he asked with a small smirk and leaned against the handrail, looking into the distance.  
He seemed to be completely at peace with himself, much more than when he was at school. At Hogwarts, Grantaire had always been tense. Here he seemed more awake, his eyes less dull and his body more relaxed, he looked completely at home.  
After a few seconds of blatantly staring at the other boy, Enjolras remembered, that maybe he was supposed to give him an answer  
“Ugh yes. I mean I don't know where exactly we are, but it's...”, he wasn't sure what exactly to answer. “it's nice...” Wow, even to his own ears that had sounded terribly lame.  
Normally Grantaire would counter with a snide remark, but instead, he just smiled. “We're near a place called Looe and yeah, nice indeed. So what do you want to do? Anything in the muggleworld that has attracted your attention? There's a village not too far away, we could head there.”  
“Actually I haven't thought about anything. It's not like we covered cultural activities at school.”, he shrugged a bit helplessly.  
“Oh okay. Have you ever done anything with Courfeyrac and Combeferre?”  
“Besides building dangerously unstable treehouses? Not really.”  
“Ok. So have you ever heard of Minigolf?”

 

“This is absolutely ridiculous? Who decided this game was fun? Oh, come on stop laughing!” Enjolras turned around red-faced and ready to hit Grantaire in the face with his golf club.  
Said boy sat in the grass next to him, totally loosing it. Minigolf, as it had turned out, was definitely not Enjolras' strength. Not that he hadn't tried. The wizard had been looking forward to trying a muggle sport, which he had seen in real life once.  
So they had taken bikes from the garage and made their way down to the next village.  
“You're just doing it wrong, Apollo.”, Grantaire simply answered, not bothering to explain everything again. Then he heaved himself up from the grass and stood next to him. “Look, for starters, you're still standing completely wrong.”  
Enjolras only huffed and mumbled: “This can't be that hard. It looked way easier on TV.”  
“Yeah everything looks easy on TV, also for your information most of it is fake. Not golf but TV as a whole. Fake.”  
They hadn't made it very far until now. After they had been here for over half an hour, they were still at the fourth hole. Both of them were rather happy  
no one else was playing at the moment, for Enjolras had tripped over his club once and had managed to shoot balls in the weirdest directions. Once he just barely missed a car window. At least he hadn't really hit Grantaire, until now. More than once Grantaire had looked like he had a sudden urge to knock on wood.  
“Be honest you just chose this to embarrass me, didn't you?”, Enjolras voice had changed from defeated to accusatory. Maybe sports had never been his strong suit, but he had usually at least been average. But this was ridiculous, he was total shit. How hard could it be to hit a small ball in the general direction of a hole in the ground?  
Grantaire could only chuckle at that. Enjolras was sure the other one was more than delighted to see him this defeated, after all those years where he had always remainde somewhat calm. That something as small as his first game of minigolf could do that to the blond boy amused Grantaire way too much. Maybe Enjolras should hit him in the face with the club. But no, he was a pacifist.  
“You seemed happy with the idea! And no I didn't, but how should I have known you suck that much?”, he asked and handed Enjolras another ball. “Try again, Apollo.”  
Enjolras only huffed and tried his luck again – and failed. The ball landed quite far away at the other end of the course.  
“But you have noticed we play minigolf, not the actual stuff, haven't you?”, Grantaire couldn't help mentioning that as he looked after the small ball.  
Riling up Enjolras like that was hilarious and he loved it. The blond only shot him a death glare and breathed heavy. His cheeks were reddened, not sure if that came from blushing or the intense dedication that seemed to have taken over his mind. If he would fuck up his first encounter with muggle stuff, Granaire would never let him live that down. Years and years of merciless bugging would follow. Snide remarks, sarcastic comments. No!  
“Okay, come on I am not fetching that ball. And I think this thing... this hole is a lost cause, let's move on.”, he stared at Grantaire and tapped his foot with the club. “Please!”, he added hoping to sound not too desperate, before the passed Grantaire without another glance and went to the next hole.  
There Grantaire finished with two shots. But before Enjolras could even try he decided to step in. This hole was even closer to the parking lot and he was pretty sure, if Enjolras fucked it up now, he would break a window.  
“Okay wait! I can't look at this anymore. Come on let me help you.”  
Enjolras only nodded lips in a thin straight line. This was frustrating. He wasn't used to being that... bad at something, at anything really. And this wasn't even special. It was a dumb game even children could play.  
Carefully Grantaire stepped behind him, touching him lightly on his elbow.  
“Okay.”, he murmured and Enjolras almost jumped at how close the other one suddenly was. With soft touches, Grantaire corrected his posture. A small tug on his arm, a light push against his leg.  
“Stand a bit straighter and now put your head up. And relax Apollo, this is not an exam. This is fun.”  
Grantaire's voice was low and god, why was he so close? Enjolras swallowed heavily. This was new, new and weird. He felt the warmth of Grantaire's body on his back. Grantaire put his hands on top of Enjolras' on the club.  
Close.  
Way too close.  
This was not normal.  
It wasn't like Enjolras was averse to physical contact. Hell, he had been in the midst of Courfeyrac's and Combeferre's cuddle sessions more times than he would like to admit and the rest of his friends were also rather tactile. Whether it was a lingering hug from Jehan or Cosette petting his hair whenever a professor made him want to punch something. When they were together, they were almost always touching.  
But not him and Grantaire. They were something like friends, but not like that. There was something else, he couldn't get himself to touch Grantaire like that. Something stopped him, something that told him it would be very different. Less platonic, no, wait.  
They were opposites, sometimes he was pretty sure if there was something about divination, there would definitely be a prophecy about him and Grantaire being absolutely bound to disagree on everything. Arguing until the end of time.  
Maybe he should ask Musichetta about that.  
But right now this was new. And he wasn't sure if it was really a bad new or a good new.  
The small sound of the club hitting the ball yanked Enjolras out of his confused thoughts. And he watched the ball rolling towards the hole and actually falling in.  
“Hey! Look I said you could do it, Apollo. You're even better than me.”, Grantaire's voice suddenly made Enjolras aware of how close they were and he practically jumped as he turned around. He stumbled a bit to get a bit more space between them. Grantaire looked a bit irritated but didn't say a word.  
“I...”, Enjolras was at a loss for words. Speechless he looked between Grantaire and the hole. “Well, that was unexpected. But uhm thanks, I guess?”  
He felt the heat rise in his cheeks and turned around to gather the ball, while Grantaire noted the points ruffling at his black curls, nervously. If this was going to happen every time they were going to do something together, this summer would be long. Long and confusing.  
“I mean you're not going to win, but if Courfeyrac ever wants to play against you, you're not going to suck that much.”  
“Gee thank you. You are my hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always many thanks go to E., who once again saved the day and all of you from my horrible spelling and comma placement.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which somebody is a dick to flowers and Jehan can't deal with it.

#### Jehan

On his fifth day at Grantaire's house, Jehan was sure that he must have found heaven.  
Or something very close to humanity's idea of the ideal afterlife at least. Jehan was certain he had never seen something so beautiful in his life. At the same time, he pitied the fact that he had never visited Grantaire before. What a shame, but he would definitely come to his friend's place again.  
Jehan had kind of fled the weird atmosphere in the house today. After everything that had happened at Enjolra's house they all felt restless. Although everybody was relieved that their friend had not been severely injured and would get back to normal, Jehan felt some dread.  
And he wondered, how a boy, who grew up in such an abusive and ideologically poisoned environment, could become such a good yet determined soul. Jehan wished he knew. And he hoped nothing in the world would ever be able to change Enjolras. He might not be the easiest person to be around on some days, but his hope in everything turning out good as long as they tried hard enough was admirable.  
It was like the shadow of yesteryear had cast itself over his group of friends.

The past – the violent danger of something bigger. 

The past that luckily was in the past but seemed to live on in people like his Enjolras' parents. It was still an underlying fear within their community, that they would only be granted a few years of peace before that shadow would cast itself over their world again.  
It still unsettled Jehan and whenever he came across Enjolras, with this cut on his temple, he felt reminded of those dark times. And while they were long over, he knew that as soon as the darkness would rise again many of his friends would end as targets. He thought of that brave couple and their wondrous son, who had defeated the darkness three years ago. They had been real heroes. And he was afraid Enjolras would one day end up like them.  
A hero.  
A _dead_ hero. 

With all that tension around him, Jehan had taken the first chance to leave the house and explore the surrounding forest. Since they had arrived at Grantaire's house by flee-network he hadn't noticed that they were apparently in the middle of nowhere. But it was a very pretty nowhere.  
What he had found amidst the trees had made his heart miss a beat.  
Fields of wildflowers covered the clearings in the forest. The patches of red, blue, violet and orange had turned the clearing into an unreal, breathtaking piece of art.  
Within the last days, he had wandered even further into the forest and had discovered more of those little clearings, one more beautiful than the last one. When he stumbled over moss-covered stones and heard the wind in the trees he felt calmer, than ever.  
It reminded him his homes. The wide fields of Ireland, where he had spent most of his life and the calm French countryside, where he had spent some summers. 

And as his steps guided him forward today Jehan could see, that he has finally reached the end of the woods.  
True, he stepped onto an open field, that had also been covered in flowers. The scenery looked unreal and wild, something told Jehan that magic was a reason for this view.  
He decided to follow the small, dusty path that lay in front of him. The winding way guided him to a small house, much smaller than the one Grantaire lived in, with a skew roof and a fence that had once been painted bright blue but looked battered now. Ivy covered the visible walls and had made its way up to the roof. It was old, but still charming in its very own way, Jehan considered.  
He wasn't really sure if anybody was even living here. There were no curtains behind the small partly cracked windows.  
If this place belonged to a muggle there would have to be a car or at least a bike around somewhere, but Jehan saw neither.  
As he noticed a collection of mismatched pots on the windowsills his question was answered. They looked like somebody tended them with a lot of love, flowers were practically overflowing the rusty metal pots and tomatoes grew out of the clay pots, which had been painted on by a child. Swirls of bright blue and green decorated one of them, while another one was covered in straight lines of yellow and red.

As the wind suddenly got stronger and Jehan could hear what sounded like at least four different wind chimes from the back of the house. The chiming sounds mixed together into an exciting melody. Curious, what he would find on the other side, he decided to walk on alongside the fence. Jehan noticed that the grass wasn't mown and there were dark patches of moss in between.  
He almost stumbled over a rusty red watering can and barely kept it from falling over. As he reached the backyard he let his eyes roam over the garden that was in front of him.

And what he saw was... It was... well. 

Not what he expected, not at all. 

First of all, it was the most beautiful garden he had ever seen. The view in front of him made the greenhouses at Hogwarts look boring and small. Different flowerbeds held a fine and yet wide selection of the prettiest flowers he had ever seen, some of which he had actually never encountered before in his life. The colors weren't in an order, instead, they were clattered all over the garden in a way that reminded Jehan of the clearings in the forest. It was like a mismatched quilt, more and more pieces sewn together to make one big pretty piece of art. His breath hitched and his fingers itched. He wanted to write about this, wanted to try and pin that beauty down in words. He also wanted to take a close look at every flower, wanted to study the new ones and tend the ones that needed it.

Among all those colors, between a patch of bright pink and sunny yellow, sitting in the direct sun was the only black piece of this artwork.  
And to Jehan's shock, this black part was currently ripping out perfectly fine lavender while swearing very colorful. The boy sitting there muttered under his breath and it seemed like he wasn't the biggest fan of gardening.

Now usually if somebody saw Jehan they would not automatically think of him as an extraordinarily brave person, he also didn't think of himself like that most times. Teenagers tended to rely on their wands or fists and Jehan wasn't at all fond of violence. So he usually avoided confrontations. And that boy in the garden was fucking intimidating, with the way he glared at every single flower around him as if it had killed his family. But he was vandalizing this wonderful place and Jehan just had to do something.  
And so Jehan pushed the gate open and walked into this small paradise with a very determined frown on his face.  
He stood behind the boy and hesitated. What was he even supposed to say? He couldn't just shout at the boy in front of him. What if he felt threatened? That shovel in his hand definitely looked like it could hurt.  
In the end, the settled on a slightly unsure:  
“Uhm hey. You do know, that you are ripping out the flowers and... I mean, I am sure, the owner of the garden wouldn't be very happy about this, so how about you stop? Please?”  
Wow, well that sounded convincing. He wanted to slap himself. Well done Jehan, that was definitely the way to go.  
The boy of him hadn't heard Jehan approach him and actually jumped in surprise, stumbled and landed himself sitting in the flowerbed. Jehan flinched as he noticed the flowers getting squashed underneath the boy's body. In the middle of sunflowers and lavender, he looked anything but chill about the situation. 

When Jehan took a closer look at the boy his breath hitched in surprise. Well, at least he now knew that the residents were wizards. He recognized the perfectly styled, yet slightly disheveled black hair and the picture-perfect always mocking expression on a pale elegant face. Oh shit. Now he was the one, who would end up dead even before Enjolras could die his martyr death.  
In front of him sat, who was to most known as the most intimidating student in Hogwarts. 

Enjolras had ranted about Montparnasse more than any of his friends could count, mostly ending with the words “God I can't wait until he ends in prison for his shady business.”  
Jehan had always wondered what shady businesses a 17-year-old could probably have. But there were indeed rumors about how he was blackmailing teachers and dealing poly-juice-potions, as well as test results. Allegedly Éponine was said to have something to do with the latter, but Jehan wasn't really sure. She didn't really strike him as somebody who would abuse their own ability like that.  
Also, he was more than sure, that divination didn't work like that. But who was he to know, he had spent most of his lessons trying to calm Marius down. Somehow the other boy was easily convinced, that he would die soon. He was still perfectly fine and alive, but Jehan's grades had been a disaster thanks to him. 

None of the rumors had been about how this boy was either a flower-hating asshole or the worst gardener, who had ever laid hands on a flower. 

“I'm doing fucking what?”, Montparnasse was the first to find words looking startled, to Jehan's surprise. He had an accusing frown on his face and Apparently, he was really shitty at gardening. And probably still an asshole.  
“I have no idea what you had planned to do, but right now you are uhm destroying that flowerbed you're sitting in. And the one you 'worked on'.” Jehan looked around.  
Yes, Montparnasse had indeed somehow managed to pull the flowers instead of the weeds, that had grown heavily between them.  
“Those ugly things here are flowers?”, The boy sounded upright insulted as he wiped sweat from his forehead and he held up the lavender.  
“Fuck this.”  
He threw it away.  
“Honestly I don't even care. If the old hag wanted a perfect garden, she should have hired somebody.” He frowned at the remains of his attempt on gardening, then at Jehan and then back at the flowers.  
“ Why would she even hire you, if you have no idea about anything?”, Jehan had to restrain himself from thinking of how the garden would look like once Montparnasse was done with it. A proper wasteland.  
“Pff she didn't hire me. That old bitch noticed I had taken some of her money, so I could buy some cool muggle clothes. Wizard fashion is terrible, not like you would understand anything about that matter. What are you even wearing? Is that seriously paisley and a flower print? On one shirt?”  
Jehan ignored the comment about his clothes and only raised his eyebrows.  
“Anyway, you could guess she didn't take that well.” Montparnasse rolled his eyes. Jehan actually couldn't guess that, but he nodded anyway. From what he had heard from Enjolras, he had never expected Montparnasse to be like this. Talking about clothes with a sparkle in his eyes. He had imagined the boy a lot more intimidating, talking about killing people in his free time. Well, that was probably just Jehan's imagination.  
“Well, and she condemned me to help her with the garden." Montparnasse waved his hand around as if to show off the insanely huge amount of work.  
"And since I apparently like muggles I should also work like one.” At the last words, his voice has gotten cold and his whole expression got tense.

Jehan immediately felt that there was probably more to that, but he didn't dare to prod. He took a look around the garden. It was beautiful, intriguing kind of like the boy in front of him. Both were aesthetic counterparts, yet mesmerizing in their own way. He knew that Montparnasse was more than he let on, Jehan could see that instantly. Still, Jehan was sure none of his friends would feel too happy about him hanging out with this boy. Too deep were the prejudices they held against him. His mother had always told him, that he should get to know people before making up his mind. She had always been right until now. Maybe Jehan should walk away before he got involved in something he should not. He should just turn around, tell the boy to rip out the ugly green things and leave. It would be logical. He could go back and check on Grantaire and Enjolras and if the two of them had already killed each other.  
Instead, he offered: “If you want I could help you? It's actually easier to grow flowers the muggle way. All your magic just irritates them.”  
He shrugged. His mother had always been right. Montparnasse didn't seem threatening right now.  
Montparnasse eyed him with suspicion, but then seemed to come to a conclusion and extended his hand towards Jehan. “I'm Montparnasse.”  
“Jehan Prouvaire.”, He took the hand, that was covered in small cuts, probably from some other flowers and smiled brightly.  
“Come again?”, Montparnasse frowned again.  
“Jehan...”  
“Bless you? How am I supposed to say that without choking?”, Montparnasse was looking annoyed and Jehan couldn't help but start laughing.  
“Enjolras says the same thing all the time!” Montparnasse's frown deepened, what made Jehan only laugh harder.  
“Sorry, but it's actually not that hard. I mean you can call me Jean, it's easier. If you want to call me the same name as Enjolras does, I mean.”, he winked and saw the other boy grit his teeth.  
His brows furrowed Montparnasse only answered: “I will manage your terrible name... Jehan...”

Apparently, Montparnasse was supposed to clear the whole garden of the weeds, without any use of magic. Also, as he had Jehan told begrudgingly, he had been supposed to start two weeks ago. But there had been a super important concert, so he had bolted to London. And since then his grandmother had been even angrier than before.  
Jehan strode through the garden and saw to his surprise, that the 'normal' plants were a minority. Between the obvious flowerbeds with roses, that would catch a muggle's eyes grew many magical plants.  
“She doesn't want muggles to notice her plants.”, Montparnasse explained. “I have no idea why she even lives here. She uhm, she doesn't like muggles very much and shouts at them a lot.” He shrugged in what Jehan interpreted as an apologetic motion.  
After he had gotten a quick overview Jehan decided that they would start the garden door and then work their way through it. Hopefully, none of the plants would bite.

 

They actually managed to work together well. After a few minutes of banter and a rather large disagreement about how Dittany was indeed a real plant and not just something Jehan had “totally made up, to keep that ugly thing in the flowerbed” they settled to a content silence.  
After some time Jehan started to explain the different plants to Montparnasse, who to Jehan's surprise listened with interest. Montparnasse for his part told Jehan about how he had almost failed Herbology almost every year and how he had been more than glad when he hadn't had to go anymore.  
“I don't know it just seemed boring to me. And I mean I just don't like getting dirty in my good clothes. No, don't you laugh about that!”, Montparnasse glared at the dirt around him.  
Jehan did his best to hide his snicker, turning it into a cough.  
“You could just wear old clothes?”, he suggested.  
“And run around like I came straight from Woodstock you mean? No offense but you dress like a hippie.”, Montparnasse snorted when Jehan looked down on his own clothes.  
“Actually I am pretty sure my mom wore this shirt when she was there.”, he answered a sly grin on his face.  
“Your mother was what?”, Montparnasse's face had fallen completely. For second Jehan was afraid he had broken the other boy.  
“She was at Woodstock, my father wasn't very happy with her going there, being pregnant and all, but...”  
“She was what now?”, Montparnasse's expression was what could be described as shock.  
“Yeah, I was born 10 days later.”, Jehan shrugged again. He had never really thought about this, he just liked the fact, that his mother had nothing hold her back from doing what she wanted,  
“I have no idea about muggles, but that sounds dangerous and reckless!”  
“Yeah, but it went well, so I don't really care.”  
“What did you mother even do in America?”, now Montparnasse looked more interested than shocked.  
“Oh, uhm she was visiting her family. She is originally from Ireland, but her family had left for the US. Then she met my father when he was visiting the US while researching magical plants in the Rocky Mountains and they fell in love at first sight.” Jehan smiled serenely. He loved his parent's story. They had met at a diner, where his mother had worked part-time as a waitress. After all those years of his father minding nothing but his work his mother had been able to make him stop for a moment and as his father always said “She made me overthink anything, I had ever done in my life. She showed me the world in a whole new light.”  
Not much after that, his mother had left with father to go back to France. They now lived in Ireland and had a small house in France and were still as adorable as ever. When he had been small Jehan had often begged his parents to tell him this story over and over again. He liked it more than any fairytale. Because it was real.  
Montparnasse only shook his head, completely baffled and only added a “Your mother is amazing.”, before he got back to work. Jehan thought about introducing him to her. She loved meeting his friends and he was pretty sure, she and Montparnasse would go on like fire. Well, he wasn't sure if Montparnasse would consider him a friend just yet.

Keeping on working they talked about school, music and muggle culture. Jehan was surprised how much Montparnasse knew about muggle fashion and how much money he spent on it.  
“My grandmother doesn't like it so I have to look for ways to get the money, and get to London, but it's worth it I guess. Shit, I think I picked out another flower.”, He sighed and laid the flower down softly.  
Jehan looked over his shoulder and saw how Montparnasse handled the plants much more cautiously than before.  
He gave him a reassuring smile and took the flower from the ground. With a little fumbling, he managed to fix it in his own curls.  
“Look it's not wasted!”, he smiled at the other boy widely pointing at his hair.  
Montparnasse looked at him, his eyes widened and his pale cheeks turned slightly pink.  
“Oh, nice.”, he swallowed, blinking rapidly.  
“Fits your hippie vibe.”, he added and the corner of his mouth turned up a small bit.

They only stopped, when Jehan noticed that the sun was already setting. “I should go back!” He rose to his feet, looking at what they had managed to clean in the last hours.  
“I am staying at Grantaire's, you know and I don't want the others to worry.”  
“I figured so much.”, Montparnasse answered. “Grantaire has been our neighbor since forever. In the summer at least.”, he shrugged. Jehan actually smiled at “neighbor”, like the houses weren't more than half an hour of walking distance from each other. Then he paused.  
“Wait you live here?”  
“Uh yes? I live with my grandmother since my parents aren't uhm in the picture anymore.”, his expression had gotten pained and Jehan wanted to take that back, sensing he had touched a sensible topic. He didn't want to pry, so he decided to move on. “You lived here and still managed to fail Herbology?” Montparnasse rolled his eyes, his face much more relaxed and almost back to constantly bored.  
“As I said, this is all magic, it's not like the old hag moves a finger.” Just when he finished talking, a rumbling was heard from the house. Montparnasse jumped a small bit.  
“Shit, I am sorry, but you should really leave.”, he put a hand on Jehan's shoulder and lead him to the garden door. Pointing at the forest, he explained. “If you go this way there is a visible path to Grantaire's house. Just uhm try to keep out of sight, she is not a good person around strangers.” The “strangers, that aren't pureblood wizards” was implied, but Jehan got the message.  
He lay his hand on top of Montparnasse's on his shoulder and squeezed it shortly. “Alright. Can I come back tomorrow, or is it a bad idea?”  
“She won't be around for the whole day tomorrow, so uhm how about 10 am?”, Montparnasse opened the wooden gate with the faded blue paint and stepped out of the garden. He cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure his grandmother didn't see them.  
Jehan turned around smiling at Montparnasse for the last time. “Alright, I'll be here.”  
Then he turned around and walked back to his friends, repeatedly touching the flower in his hair.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter with another POV, there will be at least one more about the two of them and at least two about Courfeyrac and Combeferre.  
> If anyone is interested in the backstories of Les Amis etc.  
> Part I (Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Combeferre) can be found here:
> 
>  
> 
> <https://bitterflowerchild.tumblr.com/post/164940410770/les-amis-hogwarts-headcanons-part-i>
> 
>  
> 
> Part II (Grantaire, Jehan, Montparnasse) can be found here:
> 
>   
>  <https://bitterflowerchild.tumblr.com/post/165593088400/les-amis-hogwarts-headcanons-part-ii>   
> 
> 
> This whole AU has gotten out of hand. A bit.  
> Sadly this chapter isn't betaed by E., because she was sick and I didn't want to bother her with it, so anything that sound terrible is my fault. 


	5. Chapter 5

#### Enjolras

After the mini golf disaster, that Grantaire continued to call “a really good time”, Enjolras didn't really know much more about muggles. Except for the fact that they apparently had a strange sense of what was “a really good time”. Back at Grantaire's house, they spent the next few days lazing around the house. Everybody had started to settle in, while the events back at his house were still in everybody's head, they managed to relax.  
Jehan had disappeared to somewhere on a daily basis now, the day before he had come back so late, Marius had been extremely worried. But the smile on Jehan's face and the flower in his hair had somehow been able to reassure him. Grantaire had explained that he had told Jehan about the forests surrounding the house and that the other boy had made it his task to explore them.  
Something in the way he had to bite back a grin and the twinkle in his eyes made Enjolras suspicious if there was something more behind it. But as long as no one was in danger of being harmed, he didn't feel like prying.

And at least with Jehan not there was one person, who had not witnessed yesterday's row between Grantaire and him.  
It had been after dinner, Courfeyrac had been on cooking duty, as he was the only one who managed to cook an edible meal with muggle supplies, besides Èponine, who had been too lazy that day.  
The food had been great. And it had felt a bit like Hogwarts, with all of them sat around a big table talking about their day, but better, because all of them were on the same table. Marius and Jehan were chatting about some flower none of them had ever seen, with Courfeyrac's comments about how it looked like a dick if you just twisted it a small bit. At that Combeferre almost choked on his stew and ended up coughing for five minutes straight. Bahorel had tried to save him, “patting” his back like he wanted to singlehandedly break it.

Maybe there was a reason they weren't allowed at the same table.

Gavroche had just been very busy trying to shoot beans into Bahorel's ear when Courfeyrac took it upon himself to announce who would be on washup duty.  
It was Grantaires and his turn and so they had ended up in the kitchen soon after, scraping left-overs from the plates into the bin and working in a not-so-weird silence. At least that was what Enjolras hoped it felt like for Grantaire too.  
Things had been. Not weird, but different, the last few days. At school, they didn't spend that many time together. Gryffindor shared some classes with Slytherin, but there were still times when they didn't see each other for some days. But here they were stuck together and while there were the rest of their friends, they somehow had ended up spending a lot more time together than they ever had at school.  
There were fewer discussions than Enjolras had anticipated, and much more friendly jabs and joking remarks.  
For him it was a new territory, being friendly with Grantaire and being around him all the time. It somehow felt different.

When the last plate was empty Grantaire rose his voice. “You wanna do the washing or the drying?”, he asked turning on the faucet.  
“Wait we are going to do this by hand?”, Enjoras raised his brows questioningly. Well, he hadn't expected that. They were a bunch of adult wizards, they could handle that much easier.  
“Uh yeah? What now, is that too much for somebody, who had never do any housework?”, the smile on Grantaire's face was daring him to say anything and embarrass himself.  
“No. Just we are wizards, why don't we use our magic? Like we are supposed to. There's no need to do it like muggles.” When the words had left his mouth he noticed, that this had been a mistake. The other boy's expression darkened and he locked his jaw.  
“Pah Apollo I forgot you don't do things the muggle way. This must seem so underprivileged to you.”, he practically sneered.  
“That's not what I....”  
“Nah it's exactly what you meant. And it was some hypocritical shit. At least muggles can survive without a wand, you would fail.”  
“I could too!”  
“Prove it. Let me expand our little project. No more magic for you, for the next... uhm let's say a week?”  
Enjolras thought about that. No more magic would be hard, not that he used it for everything, but still. Sometimes it was easier to cast an “Accio” spell than to search for something. But once again, Grantaire had a point. And so he nodded.  
“Yeah okay, no more magic, but you show me something new of your culture!”, the last bit was added hurriedly. They hadn't talked about doing something else, this week, so why not take the chance to bring that back into the talk.  
A small smile appeared on Grantaire's face before he also nodded. “Alright. I will think of something and don't you dare to cheat on me.”  
He held out his hand, waiting.  
“Put it there!”  
Enjolras lay down the plate he still held and shook the other boy's hand.  
“Agreed!”  
This could be interesting.

 

After another few minutes of working together Grantaire washing and Enjolras drying up and trying not to drop anything, he broke the silence.  
“Ok but honestly why don't you use your magic? I meant that as a real question, although it had been worded terribly. A fact I am sorry for.” He fiddled at some loose strings of the rag.  
Grantaire took his time to answer this, pointedly staring at the silverware in his hands. “I had been afraid to freak my parents out and honestly, it feels quite good to sometimes leave the whole magic stuff back at Hogwarts.” he shrugged, trying to blow a flick of hair away from his eyes.  
“It's weird switching between those worlds and when you got used to something it's hard to give it up, even if it's work.”  
Enjolras thought about that. He had never given a thought about how some Muggle-borns must feel in between those two worlds. Pretty lonely.  
“Huh yeah, I guess that makes sense.”  
“Yeah, but actually it's not that uncommon, the whole no magic thing. Ask Jehan his mother had taught him everything because she always says 'No fecking wand is gonna clean as good your own two hands.' Believe me, that woman is a genius. A genius whose wise sayings usually contain at least one swear word.”  
Enjolras had to grin at the terrible Irish accent, he had never had the luck to meet his friend's mother, but he heard a lot about her.  
“You know, I think the whole housework stuff is less of a muggle thing and more a rich asshole thing, don't you think?”  
“What was that?”, before he had even known how to properly react he had thrown his towel at Grantaire's face. The other boy looked completely stunned before he broke out into laughter. “Looks like I hit a nerve, huh?”  
“Shut up you asshole. At least I can cook!”, Enjolras gave him his best death stare, knowing that it had lost its impact on the Gryffindor years ago. Still, it was his go-to move when he was angry.  
Grantaire discarded the towel and splashed water at the blond boy's face, making Enjolras splutter.  
“Yeah with cauldrons and self-stirring utensils! I am so proud.” The look on his face very clearly said 'come on, retort, show me what you got.' It was Grantaire's usual joy of riling up Enjolras up and while he normally ignored it, in favor of not getting detention, he did not today.  
“At least I did not almost burn my kitchen to the ground.”, Enjolras countered with a badly calculated splash of water himself, turning Grantaire into something resembling a drowned poodle.  
“That was one fucking time! Who blew up three desks in one potions lesson?” Another splash and Enjolras' shirt was completely soaked.  
“You weren't even there, it had been Courfeyrac's fault!”  
Splash, now Grantaire was looking just as wet, water dripped from his body onto the floor. He shook his head, like a wet dog to get the wet strands of hair out of his face, making Enjolras flinch as the water hit him. Still, he didn't move away. They were standing too close again, both of them with one hand in the kitchen sink, keeping their eyes on each other. A small drop of water made its way down Enjolras forehead and as it ran down his nose he involuntarily got crosseyed for a second.  
Grantaire in front of him tried his best to keep a stern look on his face, but the way the corner of his mouth twisted upwards totally gave him away. He made a last small step forward, bowing his head to whisper in Enjolras' ear  
“Yeah, I bet. I've been there when you burned of Combeferre's eyebrows last year. Face it you suck at potion-making as well as housework. Loser.”  
Splash.  
“Who fucked up soup the other day?”  
Splash.  
“At least I know how to cook with a normal stove!”  
Splash. Splash. Splash.  
“Asshole!”  
Enjolras didn't react fast enough to dodge the wet rag, that had been thrown at him, so it hit him square in the face.  
None of them heard the small knock on the kitchen door, or the gasp that left the intruders mouth, when he saw the mess, they had made.

 

“Uhm guys are you killing... holy shit!”, Combeferre wasn't one to swear, but the situation seemingly made him. He was standing in the doorway, his look a mix of bemusement and utter shock.  
Enjolras almost jumped and he just gaped at him. He stepped back fast, almost slipping on the wet floor before gripped the closest thing and ended up holding onto Grantaire's shirt for balance. Combeferre skillfully raised one eyebrow.  
“Uhm we're fine...”, he took his time steadying himself and leaning against the sink.  
He glanced to Grantaire, who also gaped at Combeferre, still some foam in his dark curls, that slowly disappeared.  
“Yeah, we're great uhm... I should probably clean that up. Purebloodboy over here really is shit at washing up as you can see.” He winked at Enjolras, who felt the heat rising in his cheeks at that.  
“That's absolutely... You... He started it!”, Enjolras tried to make his way over to Combeferre, what only ended with him almost falling again if it weren't for Grantaire's hand on his upper arm. Both of his friends chuckled lightly.  
“Calm down Apollo it was a joke.”  
“I am pretty sure not even you could be that bad.”, Combeferre added. Traitor.  
“Well, I'll leave you to it. I just wanted to inform you that we are going to play risk, so you better hurry.” Enjolras groaned. “I don't want to play that game it promotes war and we very much had enough of that in the last few years and also I am very aware of how this is about mmmpfh...”, Grantaire had stuffed the rag into his mouth. Enjolras spit it out, glaring at him.  
“I am very much not for promotion of capitalism... don't you dare! Put that rag down!!”  
“Then shut up.”  
“Never!”  
“Uhm guys?”, that was Combeferre again.  
“That was disgusting!”  
“Yeah sorry, but we have heard you going on about that for like a million times.”  
Combeferre pitched in: “We could also play Monopoly.” n. “I can probably suggest something else to the others. Just, yeah hurry a bit.”

“But uh... You know any drying spells?”, Grantaire vaguely gestured at the mess on the floor.

 

Game night had gone well in the end. After a short discussion, they had settled on playing poker. Jehan had taught all of them the basics of the game over the last school year, is convinced that it was much more fun than gobstones (??) or wizard chess. “I don't want a small thing tell me what to do.”  
“I feel kinda attacked right now.”  
“Go to fucking bed Gav.”, all of them had chorused.  
The three Hufflepuffs definitely had the biggest experience, they had started a weekly poker night within the house last November. That didn't mean they were successful. While Jehan had learned a perfect poker face from his mother, though his was one of a constant unsettling smile, Marius and Courfeyrac were shit at hiding their emotions. They were an open book, each one of them. Anybody could read the deepening frown on Marius' forehead after five minutes and Courfeyrac was usually so enthusiastic you almost had to stop him from showing his cards.

Combeferre, Éponine and Enjolras had vetoed against Courfeyrac's suggestion of “spicing it up” and “come on guys strip poker is fun!”.  
They rather kept their clothes on. Marius had only looked very embarrassed at the idea of it, while Bahorel, Jehan, and Grantaire had merely shrugged. That might have happened before once or twice during a night out at the Musain. Musichetta had completely ruined them, not even having to take off her boots. The boys had all gone back with the wrong clothes and Grantaire had found himself in Jehan's favorite mustard yellow sweater.  
Yellow was definitely not his colour.  
So normal Poker it had been. Enjolras wasn't half bad at the game, it had taken him long to get the rules but now his wit actually kept him from embarrassing himself, like Marius and Courfeyrac sitting opposite of him did.  
Somehow at the end of the night, Courfeyrac had still ended up in only his boxers. Nobody really knew why.

 

The next day during breakfast, which consisted of enough pancakes to feed an army and was provided by a disgruntled Èponine muttering about how she wasn't able to sleep, they discussed what other aspects of muggle culture Enjolras had missed out so far. What was apparently a lot?  
“Learning how to drive!”, Jehan submitted an amused smile on his face. Oh yeah, Enjolras was pretty sure, that that would turn out horrible. It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to learn how to ride a bike, maneuvering something with a … “engine?” would probably get all of them to the hospital. Gladly Grantaire brushed it off pretty fast, reminding him that they had no car here.

“Oh, I know! A bonfire!”, Courfeyrac blurted, spitting small pieces pancake on Jehan's face, who wiped them away with a mild smile and only a little bit of disgust. He was used to it, eating next to Courf was always an experience.  
“Ok, but what about a bonfire is strictly muggle cultures?”, he submitted, absentmindedly.  
“Yeah I mean don't you fancy purebloods just burn stuff for fun in the summer? Or is torturing muggles your only hobby?”, Grantaire added, who was deeply concentrated on braiding Jehan's hair without ripping out… too much.  
It had taken him years to get there.  
“Uhm I don't think so?!? I mean I am pretty sure the only bonfires wizards were part of were the burning of witches and like hell that's not really a good party.”, Courfeyrac only answered. The duh was very much intended. Expectantly he looked at Marius, Éponine, and Enjolras. The first shook his head, the second one shrugged and Enjolras just mumbled about “no outdoor activities”.  
“So it's settled our dearest leader has never experienced the wonder, that is a bunch of drunk teenagers being ridiculously reckless while burning a lot of stuff, and we need to change that!”  
The bonfire was set for their last weekend together, right before going back to school, because apparently, Courfeyrac needed “at least some time to plan this!”. Whatever there was to plan. Enjolras doubted that Courf would spend the next weeks with searching for wood... on the other hand, he actually would.

 

They left Marius and Gavroche on clean-up duty. Grantaire joked that he would spend the rest of the day with fixing broken plates and comforting an emotionally similar broken Marius.  
Enjolras wanted to use the time to discuss some new ideas for their last year at Hogwarts with Courfeyrac and Combeferre. He wanted to leave an impact at that school, making it more of a safe space for all of its students. Now was the time to change wizard's society, even if it felt like he had to do it himself sometimes.  
He just needed a good plan.

 

But apparently, that plan wasn't meant to be made that day. When he finally found his two best friends outside in the garden, they were lying under one of the big trees. Combeferre propped up against the trunk, a book in his hands quietly reading from it. Courfeyrac was lying with his head in his friend's lap, his eyes closed. Enjolras wasn't sure if he was even still awake. Well, he thought as he took the scene in, not even he would disturb them. This had been going on for some time now, he realized as he watched how Courf, apparently awake, chuckled lightly in response to the story. The two boys had been inseparable from the beginning and while they had happily integrated Enjolras and were comfortable in this close-knitted friendship of three, the two of them had a much deeper connection.  
Even the different houses at Hogwarts had done nothing to separate them, it had only lead to them collecting even more friends. Like planets circuiting around the sun, all of their friends were close them but the core of their relationship was and probably forever would be just the two of them burning bright. 

Smiling to himself Enjolras stepped back into the house, where he bumped into a disgruntled looking Éponine. “If you’re looking for R he’s in his parent’s room or something.” Enjolras wanted to answer, that he actually didn’t look for him, but Gavroche’s shouting from the kitchen broke him off. “Shit É. come here, Marius keeps breaking the plates and I don’t know how to fix them.”, he was followed by Marius’: “I am really sorry, I don’t know what is wrong today.”  
With a murmured “I know exactly what is wrong with you, you idiot.” and with a last look at Enjolras she turned around and hurried over to the kitchen, her wand already raised as if to face a dangerous monster. Judging by the undignified scream that was heard from the kitchen, there might as well be one.

Not sure what he was to do, Enjolras followed Éponines instructions and went to look for Grantaire. He didn’t have to search for long because Grantaire actually came his way as he climbed up the steep stairs to the upper level.  
“I heard a high pitched scream. Who killed Marius?”, he tugged at the cuffs of his black hoodie. “Uhm Gavroche I guess.”, Enjolras replied. “But Éponine took care of it.”  
“Oh great, then he’s definitely going to die.”, Grantaire rolled his eyes.  
“Why?” Enjolras actually had to look up to Grantaire for once, as he was standing on a higher step.  
“Oh my god. Why he asks. Dammit Apollo, Cosette’s coming today.”, the other boy shook his head and Enjolras watched as his curls sprung in the movement.  
“I have no idea why that would lead to Éponine killing Marius.”  
“Ah… just forget it. Actually, there’s something much more important. I have a question for you.” The spark in Grantaire’s eyes frightened Enjolras just a small bit. “You still lack a lot of knowledge about us humble mere mortal muggles…”  
“Wizards are mortal too.”  
“Shut it, I was have been drafting this speech for years.”  
“You haven’t.  
“Proof it Apollo. Anyway. As I said, you lack the knowledge of our finest arts. Music! Literature! Theatre! So, I ask you. Have you ever been to the movies?”, Grantaire had accompanied his words with dramatic gestures and Enjolras couldn’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous the other boy looked.  
“I…what?”  
“The movies. Like the cinema? Have Combeferre and Courf ever taken you?”  
“Uh no. We always wanted to, but somehow we have never found the time.”, that was only a small lie. Their parents had thought it might not be a smart decision to bring him to the cinema, even the TV had freaked him out in the beginning.  
“Great! There’s a new movie about ghosts and I can’t wait to hear your criticism about how muggles portray your most rotten elders. Also, I don’t really want to be here, when Éponine figures out she has to share a room with Cosette.”, he shrugged. 

 

They got to the nearest city by bike, just in time with Marius announcing that Cosette would arrive within the next minutes. Éponine had very pointedly been staring at the window, not sparing him a look. Enjolras was confused.  
The small town’s cinema was easy to find and was advertising the movie in bold letters on its front.  
“Ghostbusters…”, Enjolras read. “Really?” Grantaire only shrugged smiling broadly. “No need to be picky, you are the one who has never even seen a movie.” That managed to shut him up.  
“Come on let’s get tickets and some snacks, no need to be afraid, Apollo.”, Grantaire winked at him and opened the front door. Enjolras followed him.

In retrospect, he would say, that maybe Courfeyrac’s mother had been right when she had said cinema was probably not the best thing for him to try out.  
But in his defense, it had all went ok in the beginning.

The two of them had found their place in the last row, the cinema hall had been empty save for the two boys and a group of teens in the front. Enjolras was mostly busy with shoving popcorn into his mouth. “Damn that stuff tastes amazing!”  
Grantaire chuckled lightly. “It’s just popcorn.” “Yeah, but you know. I got no candy as a child and they don’t sell this anywhere in Hogsmead… Also, it tastes nice.”, Enjolras only answered getting more and quieter before he ate some more.  
As a kid, he hadn’t eaten any sweets, a fact he had caught up on since his first year. Since they were allowed going to Hogsmeade he had developed a serious sweet tooth for basically anything.  
“Well, then let’s count this as a win for muggle culture, but you should slow down, or there’s nothing left for the next two hours.”  
At that, Enjolras felt the heat rising in his cheeks, and he put the paper bag away slightly flustered. “Yeah, that might be a good idea…” He leaned back into the plush seat, his shoulder brushing Grantaire’s. Somehow, they had ended up in one of those seats for couples, where there was no armrest between them and he was suddenly very aware of Grantaire’s presence next to him. He chewed on his lips. 

On one hand, he was kinda happy that being at the cinema and watching a movie did not require conversation, on the other hand… they had gotten better at it in some aspects at least. On the other hand, he craved the interaction with the other boy. Cautiously Enjolras let his gaze wander to where Grantaire was sitting on his left, the bag of popcorn in his lap and eyes fixed on the screen, where advertisements were being played. Grantaire didn’t notice him staring, too transfixed by the woman talking about futuristic vacuum cleaners. Whatever a vacuum cleaner was, in Enjolras’s eyes, it looked kinda creepy.  
He looked so relaxed like he hadn’t in a very long time. Even with the bunch of people in his house, he seemed perfectly at peace with himself and Enjolras envied him. He wished some of that laid-back feeling, Grantaire and all of the others were surrounded at the moment would somehow lighten his own mood. But in the back of his minds sorrows were piling up and he craved a solution and a distraction from them at the same time.  
Well, this was at least a distraction, he decided as he tore his eyes away from Grantaire’s face. 

 

The movie was interesting a bit weird, but kinda entertaining.  
For approximately five minutes and then the first ghost popped up.  
Enjolras had definitely not seen that coming and when the gross figure appeared on the screen he practically jumped in his seat, gripping the armrest with his right hand.  
And with his left hand, he gripped what was closest, what turned out to be Grantaire’s hand, which he squashed, eyes wide from fear.  
It took him a few moments until he noticed the soothing motion of a thumb on the back of his left hand and it almost made him jump again.  
He thanked all the muggle entities for being in a dark room, so Grantaire would not see the blush that had definitely spread on his cheeks again. Grantaire's hands were rougher than his own, still, the small circles he rubbed on Enjolras skin were unbelievably calming.  
He thought about disentangling their hand, but couldn’t really get himself to do so. Instead, he gently squeezed the other boys hand, as if to ask for his permission, without meeting his eyes. Grantaire squeezed back, Enjolras had no idea if he was looking at him or not. With his right hand, he nervously grabbed for the popcorn, his eyes still fixated on the screen. Or well, to be honest, he was very intently looking about three feet above the screen, but nobody had to know this. 

The rest of the movie went without another near death fright experience and when the credits rolled both of them simultaneously unclasped their hands and busied themselves with collecting their things before they hurried out of the room.  
There was an unsettling silence between them. Grantaire walked in front of him and Enjolras followed him out of the cinema into the late afternoon sun, which seemed to be way too bright for his eyes right now.  
As they made their way to their bikes Enjolras caught up to Grantaire and they walked next to each other.  
I would be so easy, to just reach out and take Grantaire's hand again, hold onto it for no other reason, than that it had felt calming and just good.  
He reached out with his left hand but lost the courage halfway.  
Instead, he busied himself with a loose thread on his jacket.  
Little did he know, that Grantaire had seen him.  
He bumped their shoulders and took Enjolras' hand into his, his gaze fixed on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had taken much longer than anticipated. But yeah there a more awkward not-dates to come.   
> Also, this chapter is unbetaed, because it's late and I just want to post it.


End file.
